THE  ISLE  OF  STRIFE 


0DV.  OF  CALIF.  .  LOS 


THE  ISLE  OF  STRIFE 


BY 
GEORGE  C.  SHEDD 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  PRINCESS  OF  FORGE,"    "THE  INCORRIGIBLE 
DUKANE,"    ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


BOSTON 

SMALL,  MAYNARD  AND  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  191* 

BY  SMALL,  MAYNARD  AND  COMPANY 
(INCORPORATED) 


Enttrtd  at  Stationtrf  Hall 


Published,  May,  1912 
Second  Printing,  June,  1911 


THE   UNIVERSITY   PRESS,    CAMBRIDGE,    U.  8.  A. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    OLD  WINE  IN  A  NEW  BOTTLE   ....  I 

II   A  GENTLEMAN  OF  A  SINGLE  IDEA    .   .  20 

III  AN  AFTERNOON   AT  LAVOUCHE   ....  42 

IV  THE  ENVOY  OF  A  GOVERNMENT.  ...  59 
V   How   A  DOCUMENT  MAY  ACQUIRE  IM- 
PORTANCE      81 

VI   THE  VARIOUS  VISITS    OF    SENOR   DEL 

HERVALLE 97 

VII    STRATEGY  INTRODUCED  UPON  AN  ISLAND  115 

VIII   A  DELEGATION  OF  FISHERMEN  ....  138 

IX   UNDER   SURVEILLANCE 157 

X   THE  MESSAGE 173 

XI    BEWARE  STRANGE  DOORS! 188 

XII    WHAT  MAY  BE  SEEN   FROM  A  WINDOW  201 

XIII  ONE  WAY  TO  ENGAGE  A  VALET  ...  214 

XIV  A  STRUGGLE  ON  THE  SANDS 229 

XV   THE  TEUTONIC  METHOD 245 

XVI   WANTED — A  FORTRESS 260 

XVII    LAVOUCHE  CEASES  TO  FISH 275 

XVIII   A  SHOT  IN  THE  WOOD 294 

XIX   LAVOUCHE  INVESTIGATES 307 

XX   THE  TALE  THAT  PILON  TOLD 322 

XXI   THE  TALE  THAT  ESPER  TOLD   ....  343 

XXII    LAST  OF  THE  TALE 359 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Whirling  about,  she  cut  off  the  sentence  as  with  a  knife. 
She  stared  with  round  blue  eyes  and  parted 
lips Frontispiece 

PAGE 
With  a  stubby  forefinger  still  resting  upon  the  sheet 

Sunpon  regarded  me.     "Is  it  a  fort  ?".     .     .     .     151 

Up  I  sprang,  and  swinging  the  stool  in  a  great  circle 

flung  it  at  Descarte's  head 236 


THE   ISLE  OF  STRIFE 

CHAPTER   I 

OLD   WINE   IN   A    NEW   BOTTLE 

Lieutenant  William  Harrington  and  I,  making 
our  way  towards  the  Dominion  Line  pier  from 
which  we  were  to  take  boat  from  Galveston  to 
New  York,  were  discussing  future  plans. 

"  I  'm  in  doubt  what  I  really  desire,  society  or 
solitude,"  Billy  remarked  reflectively. 

"  As  for  society,  you  've  had  nothing  else  at  the 
post,"  I  answered.  "  What  you  want  is  the  other 
thing.  There  's  no  way  out  of  it,  you  must  come 
with  me  up  the  Maine  coast." 

"  So  be  it,  then,  driver  of  wild  oxen !  But  I  must 
first  spend  two  or  three  days  in  Washington,  you 
know,  before  my  leave  begins." 

Six  months  previous  I  had  by  chance  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Harrington,  a  young  officer  of 
the  Eighteenth  Cavalry,  at  San  Antonio  where  he 
was  stationed.  Instantly  we  became  friends,  some- 
thing in  our  natures  making  for  reciprocal  liking. 
As  good  fortune  would  have  it,  his  leave  came  due 
at  the  time  when  I  was  starting  for  New  York, 


THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

and  we  joined  company  to  make  the  trip  together. 
Here  we  were,  then,  in  Galveston :  our  heels  clicked 
briskly  on  the  uneven  pavements  as  we  advanced 
along  the  streets,  exuberant  in  new  freedom  and 
our  tongues  steadily  wagging.  The  fog  which  lay 
over  the  city  was  beginning  to  break  beneath  the 
hot  July  sun.  Now  for  a  moment  it  would  drop 
like  a  veil  to  wrap  buildings  and  bear  to  our  nostrils 
the  salty  smell  of  the  sea ;  now  it  was  stripped  away, 
leaving  but  narrow  streaks  and  tatters  to  swim  be- 
tween walls.  At  last  we  came  out  upon  the  wharves 
and  made  our  way  among  endless  rows  of  barrels, 
bales,  sacks,  and  crates. 

'*  I  suppose  it  will  be  rather  quiet  up  there  where 
you  '11  take  me,"  Billy  vouchsafed. 

"Not  a  thing  to  do  but  fish  and  loaf.  It's 
idyllic." 

"  I  will  grow  fat,"  said  he;  for  be  it  known  that 
Billy  was  as  thin  as  a  pennon-staff.  "  Don't  you 
think  that  that  will  be  a  good  place  to  lay  on  a 
little  flesh?" 

"Admirable.  It's  an  isle  for  dreamers,  lotus- 
eaters,  and  flesh-accumulators." 

"  Not  lovers,  I  hope,"  Billy  sniffed.  "  I  'm  sick 
of  girls.  Promise  me  there  '11  be  no  girls." 

"  I  promise  faithfully,"  said  I. 

Then  you  have  my  word  to  join  you  —  and 
here  's  the  boat.    Up  you  go." 

Half  an  hour  after  the  steamer  had  swung  away 
from  its  pier  and  pointed  southeastward  on  its 


OLD    WINE    IN   A    NEW   BOTTLE      3 

course  across  the  Gulf  we  were  seated  on  deck,  skim- 
ming a  bundle  of  newspapers. 

"  Hello !  "  Billy  exclaimed  after  a  time.  "  They  Ve 
caught  another  one." 

"  Another  what  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Why,  a  spy.  Strange  thing  how  there  seems 
always  to  be  a  steady  business  in  that  line  on  the 
Continent.  This  fellow  was  a  Russian,  it  appears 
—  an  officer,  too,  pretty  well  up,  who  sold  Germany 
plans  of  a  battleship,  or  a  fortress,  or  something 
which  is  n't  specified.  Want  of  money  makes  a  lot  of 
fellows  over  yonder  go  crooked  and  sell  their  coun- 
try —  debts,  or  race-horses,  or  actresses.  Thank 
Heaven,  we  don't  have  traitors  in  our  army,  who  '11 
sell  the  United  States  for  a  handful  of  gold.  Won- 
der what  this  Russian  fellow  disposed  of  —  and 
what  particular  kind  of  frozen  Hades  they  '11  send 
him  to." 

I  mused  a  moment,  for  the  newspaper  item  had 
awakened  a  train  of  thought  in  my  mind. 

"  Curious,  now,  I  'd  forgotten  all  about  my  map," 
I  said. 

"Humph  —  map."  Billy  was  but  half  attentive, 
eyes  still  on  the  newspaper  he  held. 

"  A  map,  exactly.  I  happen  to  be  the  possessor 
of  a  secret  map  of  a  German  fortification." 

"  Back  to  thine  oxen,  dreamer,"  he  scoffed. 

"  And  thou  to  thine  asses,  doubter,"  I  retorted. 
"  This  is  a  straight  tale." 

"  Somehow  I  can't  see  the  connection  between 


4  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

a  German  war  map  and  the  Texas  cattle  ranch 
where  you  Ve  been,  yet  it  may  be  so.  Give  me  the 
yarn." 

"  This  map  was  in  the  trunk  of  a  renegade  Eng- 
lish army  officer,  a  scoundrel  who  was  shot  at  a 
mine  in  the  mountains  where  I  happened  to  be  pres- 
ent. I  Ve  the  chart  in  New  York." 

"  And  it 's  the  real  thing?    What  fort?  " 

"  Ah,  there  you  corner  me.  It 's  unnamed.  But 
the  chap  who  made  it  evidently  slipped  into  some 
fortress.  It 's  perfectly  executed,  showing  to  scale 
entrance  gun-pits  and  disappearing  guns,  range 
finders,  search-lights,  water  system,  telephone  sys- 
tem, ammunition  cellars,  underground  galleries  and 
all  the  score  of  other  features,  in  fact,  the  fort 
complete." 

"  By  Jove !  "  Billy  exclaimed. 

"  And  it 's  explained  in  foot-notes  written  in  Ger- 
man script,"  I  added. 

"  That  settles  it,"  said  he.  "  A  copy,  of  course. 
The  man  could  never  have  got  into  the  fortress  in 
the  first  place;  in  the  second,  he  could  not  have 
secured  exact  data ;  and  in  the  last,  they  would  have 
caught  and  skinned  him  alive.  It 's  a  pity,  though, 
he  did  n't  tag  it  with  its  name." 

"  That  would  make  it  dangerous  for  him,"  said  I. 

"  Dangerous !  As  if  such  a  map  were  n't  danger- 
ous any  time,  named  or  unnamed." 

"  Do  you  think  so?  "  I  asked,  a  little  startled. 

"  Many  a  man  would  cut  your  throat  in  an  instant 


OLD    WINE    IN    A    NEW    BOTTLE       5 

to  get  it,"  he  said  cheerfully.     "  Why,  every  nation 
in  Europe  would  love  to  lay  hand  on  that  paper." 

"  What  the  deuce  am  I  to  do  with  it?    Burn  it?  " 

"Burn  it!  Perish  the  thought.  We'll  have  a 
look  at  it  when  we  reach  New  York  and  then  put 
our  heads  together."  He  nodded  confidently.  "  Who 
knows,  we  may  have  some  fun  out  of  the  thing." 

"  But  you  said  it  was  dangerous." 

"  Certainly.  That 's  what  gives  a  chance  for 
something  to  happen." 

Of  what  his  notion  of  fun  consisted  I  was  left 
to  guess.  As  I  began  however  to  realize  the  im- 
port of  this  tracing  which  I  possessed,  a  doubt  of 
the  wisdom  of  not  destroying  it  entered  my  mind. 
One  adventure  I  had  had,  one  in  which  the  man 
whose  hand  had  drawn  the  map  had  played  an  active 
part,  and  now  after  that  experience  I  looked  askance 
at  adventures. 

Like  an  errant  meteor  crossing  the  serenity  of  our 
lives,  Douglass  had  come  upon  Forge,  and  like  that 
celestial  wanderer  had  burnt  himself  out,  in  a  flash- 
ing course  of  crime.  Handsome,  adroit,  audacious, 
he  had  set  himself  to  win  the  heart  of  Ethys  Fenton 
—  she  whom  we  jestingly  termed  the  Princess  of 
Forge  and  who  in  truth  had  in  the  mines  of  Forge 
wealth  far  beyond  most  princesses  —  and  failing 
that,  to  pull  down  Maitland,  the  manager,  seize  the 
gold  and  make  off  with  it.  But  once  too  often  had 
he  cast  dice  with  Fate  —  his  schemes  had  gone 
awry;  D'Urville,  his  co-partner  in  guilt,  was  fled, 


6  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

peace  and  order  were  restored  to  the  mines,  while 
Douglass  himself  was  dead.  A  bullet  had  closed  his 
adventurous  and  disloyal  career.  And  a  fitting  close ! 
It  is  no  wonder  then  that  we  who  remained  breathed 
easier  in  the  new  security  brought  by  his  death. 
Most  of  all  were  we  happy  at  that  time  because 
Maitland  had  come  through  the  struggle  with  honor 
untarnished  and  was  soon  to  call  Ethys  his  wife. 
"  Have  I  not  reason  to  be  happy  ?  "  said  he.  "  And 
we  are  done  with  trouble." 

Who  can  look  into  the  future?  If  there  be  such 
a  thing  as  premonition,  surely  as  we  stood  over 
Douglass'  open  trunk  while  Maitland  uttered  those 
words  it  should  have  foreshadowed  in  warning  what 
was  to  happen.  The  moment  was  auspicious.  Mait- 
land lightly  balanced  in  his  hands  the  dead  man's 
sword,  an  English  officer's  sword,  while  I  perused 
the  map  of  some  fortification  which  Douglass  had 
drawn  and  left  unnamed.  We  should  keep  these, 
we  had  resolved,  as  mementoes  of  the  struggle  which 
we  had  fought  and  won.  I  rolled  up  the  map,  say- 
ing, "  It 's  good  draughtsmanship  —  and  the  fellow 
over  and  over,  rascally,  avaricious,  accurate."  For 
Douglass  had  been  just  the  one  for  such  an  act! 
To  creep  somehow  into  a  nation's  fortress  in  order 
afterwards  to  sell  its  secrets  for  a  price,  that  deed 
fitted  his  very  nature.  Danger  he  loved  —  and 
loved  money.  What  I,  as  well  as  Maitland,  had 
forgotten  was  that  there  yet  breathed  somewhere 
on  the  globe  a  plump,  suave,  patient  gentleman, 


OLD    WINE    IN   A    NEW    BOTTLE       7 

D'Urville,  who  had  been  hand  in  glove  with  the 
dead  Scotchman  and  a  sharer  of  his  secrets.  Well, 
if  we  never  forgot  anything,  how  full  our  heads 
would  be ! 

That  D'Urville  had  escaped  from  America  alto- 
gether I  soon  afterwards  learned  by  the  evidence  of 
my  own  eyes.  Six  months  later  in  New  York  when 
I  was  engrossed  with  a  matter  of  vast  importance 
to  me,  being  nothing  less  than  the  state  of  my  heart 
and  that  of  Elizabeth  Moore's,  and  how  to  bring 
the  two  into  mutually  reciprocal  and  cohesive  con- 
junction forever,  I  had  a  fleeting  encounter  with 
the  little  rotund  Frenchman.  Mr.  Moore  was  sail- 
ing to  Venezuela  to  engage  with  the  government 
of  that  country,  in  behalf  of  our  own,  in  certain 
weighty  and  extended  negotiations;  and  with  him 
went  Elizabeth.  I  was  on  deck  with  her  and  at  the 
last  moment  flung  doubt  to  the  winds  and  laid  my 
heart  and  life,  so  to  speak,  in  her  two  hands. 

"  I  will  reflect  upon  the  matter,"  she  answered. 

"  '  Reflect ! '  I  exclaimed  indignantly  at  the 
brutal  word.  "  It 's  plain  to  see  you  're  a  diplomat's 
daughter." 

"  We  must  both  reflect  upon  it,"  said  she,  bend- 
ing her  brows  in  thought.  "  Now  hurry,  Charlie, 
the  boat  is  about  to  cast  off." 

So  it  was.  I  hastened  to  the  gang-plank  and  there 
collided  with  that  villain  D'Urville,  who  was  at 
the  last  minute  and  with  the  least  ostentation  pos- 
sible climbing  aboard.  Recollection  of  the  brief 


8  '  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

exchange  of  repartee  that  thereupon  passed  between 
us  is  unpleasant  to  remember;  the  honors  were  all 
on  his  side.  As  I  discovered  after  rushing  uptown 
to  inform  Maitland  of  the  news,  criminals  are  not 
extraditable  from  Venezuela ;  they  are  in  majority 
down  there,  he  stated,  and  run  the  government.  And 
so  the  man  had  got  clean  off. 

Thought  of  the  Frenchman  was  presently  driven 
from  my  mind  by  a  letter  received  from  Elizabeth 
in  which  she  returned  the  heart  I  offered. 

"  I  am  fond  of  you,  Charlie,"  she  wrote,  "  for  you 
have  been  exceedingly  good  to  me,  always.  But  since 
you  have  asked  me  for  an  answer  it  would  only  be 
cruel  to  delay  giving  it.  So  I  will  say  immediately 
and  definitely  that  I  cannot  marry  you.  Once  you 
thought  yourself  madly  in  love  with  Ethys,  now  with 
me;  to-morrow  it  will  be  another.  Charlie,  you  are 
only  a  boy,  a  big  boy  and  a  nice  boy,  but  still  a  boy, 
with  too  much  money  and  nothing  to  do.  You  could 
make  a  mark  in  the  world  if  you  would  cease  to  be 
frivolous  and  take  yourself  seriously.  Yes,  Charlie, 
I  like  you  —  like  your  black  hair,  your  dark  eyes,  your 
square  shoulders,  and  many,  many  other  things  about 
you.  But  a  woman  does  not  fall  in  love  with  just 
these,  no  indeed !  It  is  a  man  she  wants,  a  confident, 
masterful  man  to  love,  to  mate,  to  adore.  He  must 
be  straight,  honest,  courageous,  tried  and  proven,  ad- 
mired by  women,  respected  by  men,  one  who  will  flinch 
at  nothing  and  dare  anything  for  the  woman  he  loves. 
Oh,  Charlie,  I  have  opened  my  heart  to  you,  knowing 
that  you  will  respect  my  confidence  —  and  I  almost 
weep  to  tell  you  I  cannot  marry  you.  .  .  ." 


OLD    WINE   IN    A    NEW    BOTTLE       9 

I  read  no  more;  I  crushed  the  letter  in  my  hand, 
my  heart  bitter  with  disappointment,  shame,  rage 
—  rage  at  myself.  It  was  true,  all  that  she  had 
written.  A  boy,  a  big  boy!  That  expressed  what 
every  one  thought  of  me.  Jack  Maitland  had 
spoken  it  more  than  once  —  "a  big  long-legged 
boy  " ;  Ethys  had  said  it  —  "a  nice,  pleasant,  oblig- 
ing boy,  but  too  rich  " ;  and  my  father,  dead  now 
a  year,  had  looked  at  me  curiously  from  his  sick- 
bed and  sighed.  Now  I  knew  his  thought.  What 
if  I  was  twenty-six!  What  if  I  stood  topping  six 
feet,  could  lift  eight  hundred  pounds,  row  a  shell, 
or  run  a  fast  mile!  What  if  I  belonged  to  clubs,  had 
motor  cars,  racing  boats,  money ! 

One  week  later  I  sat  in  a  saddle  on  a  ranch  in 
Texas  which  I  had  inherited  along  with  other  things 
from  my  father.  I  would  see  about  this  "  boy  " ! 
No  one  except  the  manager  knew  who  I  was,  and 
he,  under  penalty  of  dismissal,  kept  inviolate  my 
secret.  I  flung  myself  into  the  work  of  the  ranch 
with  a  sort  of  fierceness,  for  I  was  bitter,  bitter  at 
the  world,  bitter  at  myself.  Had  I  not  loved  her? 
God  knows  I  had!  It  had  been  and  still  was  (my 
heart  spoke  true  enough  this  time)  the  one  serious 
passion  of  my  life.  Ah,  that  letter  which  took  away 
from  me  hope  of  happiness.  I  went  about  my  work 
silently  and  with  the  earnestness  born  of  a  desire 
to  forget;  rain  or  shine,  summer  grass  or  winter 
snow,  under  sun  or  stars,  in  sand  or  alkali  or  flowers, 
I  rode  with  the  best  of  those  hard-riding  cow- 


io  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

punchers,  or,  if  need  be,  fought  the  worst  with  my 
fists.  The  hard  open  life  of  the  range,  the  free 
air  of  the  limitless  prairies,  hardened  my  frame  and 
deepened  my  nature.  I  was  with  men,  earning  my 
wage  as  a  man,  rated  a  man.  Thus  passed  eighteen 
months.  At  the  end  of  that  time  companions  who 
had  sweated  under  the  sun  by  my  side  in  the  heat 
of  the  round-up  and  cutting-out,  or  branding,  or 
tamed  unridden  horses  with  me,  or  felt  the  weight 
of  my  hand  in  fair  fight,  did  not  call  me  "  boy." 

But  this  was  not  what  I  wished,  this  respect,  or 
rather  was  not  all  I  wanted.  Measure  of  ranch  life 
I  had  taken,  yet  remained  unsatisfied;  therefore  I 
departed,  asking  myself  what  I  must  have  still,  but 
receiving  no  answer  unless  it  was  in  the  picture  of 
Elizabeth's  fair  face  conjured  up  by  memory. 

As  for  the  map,  D'Urville,  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  Forge  adventure,  I  had  gradually  forgotten  him 
in  my  nearer,  more  vital  affair.  The  map  was  safe 
at  home  in  some  drawer  where  I  had  tossed  it;  it 
was  unnamed  and  its  very  existence  was  unknown 
to  but  three  men  —  Maitland,  myself,  and  now  Har- 
rington. After  all,  what  adventure  could  arise 
from  it? 

Passengers  were  few  upon  the  steamer.  A  voy- 
age across  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  under  a  broiling  July 
sun  is  not  lightly  to  be  undertaken.  Of  the  few 
however  Harrington  and  I  drew  together  with  two 
gentlemen  who  proved  to  be  congenial  and  with 
whom  we  fell  into  that  easy  and  amiable  acquaint- 


OLD    WINE   IN    A    NEW    BOTTLE      n 

anceship  which  is  bred  of  experience  and  travel. 
That  afternoon  the  four  of  us  sat  on  deck  under 
an  awning  on  the  shady  side  of  the  boat  in  an 
endeavor  to  get  some  comfort  from  the  breeze  cre- 
ated by  the  boat,  though  this  was  little.  The  sun 
shone  down  out  of  a  cloudless  sky  upon  the  water 
in  a  glare  that  made  the  eyes  ache;  rope,  rod,  and 
rail  burned  to  the  touch;  the  deck  reflected  the 
sun's  rays;  the  staterooms  were  stifling.  Far  out 
across  the  water  there  flashed  into  sight  from  time 
to  time  a  school  of  flying  fish ;  overhead  the  wireless 
sputtered  at  intervals,  seeming  only  to  intensify  the 
heat  by  its  crackling  chatter. 

"  And  so  his  luck,  his  famous  Lonagan  luck,  held 
good  once  more."  It  was  Brumley,  the  war  corre- 
spondent, concluding  a  story  of  a  notorious  gun- 
runner which  he  had  been  narrating.  "  That  was 
last  year ;  I  've  not  seen  or  heard  of  him  since. 
In  all  probability,  he  's  down  yonder  somewhere  this 
present  minute  running  contraband  stuff  to  revo- 
lutionists." And  he  jerked  his  thumb  southward. 

"  Then  he 's  earning  his  money  this  weather," 
said  Billy,  mopping  his  face. 

The  fourth  of  our  number,  a  huge  Mexican,  a 
prosperous  coffee  raiser  and  shipper,  heaved  himself 
up  in  his  cane  chair  and  removed  the  black  cigar 
from  his  lips.  His  eyes  moved  restlessly  from  one 
to  another  of  us  as  he  stroked  his  great  white 
moustache. 

"  No,    gentlemen,    Lonagan    will    run    no    more 


12  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

guns,"  said  he.     "  What  you  call  his  famous  luck 

—  pouf !  —  has  been  blown  away  in  powder-smoke." 
"  Ah,  they  finished  him  at  last?  " 

"A  month  ago  —  Castro." 

"You're  sure  of  it?" 

"  As  sure  as  that "  —  he  snapped  his  fingers  with 
a  resounding  crack  — "  for  I  observed  all.  El 
Presidente  finally  tricked  him,  sent  Del  Hervalle  to 
pretend  he  was  an  insurrecto,  to  bargain  and  to  plan 
a  landing  of  weapons,  and  for  once  Lonagan  moved 
hastily.  Del  Hervalle  urged  haste  and  paid  high. 
So,  gentlemen,  they  took  him.  Then  Castro  —  but 
all  the  world  knows  Castro.  Six  months  ago  it 
occurred,  and  I  chanced  to  be  in  Caracas,  where  I 
am  not  yet  known.  Being  a  Mexican,  I  learned  many 
things  which  would  have  been  impossible  for  an 
American  to  acquire  —  you  understand,  gentlemen 

—  and  could  do  many  things  unquestioned  which 
you  could  not  have  done.    But  neither  was  it  known 
that  I  have  offices  and  live  much  of  the  time  in 
New  York,  or  perhaps  Castro  might  of  me  also 
have  asked  questions.    Lonagan  was  shot  one  morn- 
ing against  the  cathedral  wall.    El  Presidente  him- 
self was  there  to  observe  the  denouement,  for  Lona- 
gan had  caused  him  considerable  anxiety  at  one  time 
and  another  and  the  good  dictator  wished  to  see  with 
his  own  eyes  that  the  man  was  dead.    I  also  found 
occasion  to  be  present.     Alas,   I  could  render  no 
assistance,  none,  and  could  only  stand  with  my  hands 
in  my  pockets  and  smoke  a  cigar  and  think  that  it 


OLD    WINE   IN    A    NEW    BOTTLE      13 

would  be  well  if  Castro  too  were  placed  with  his 
back  to  the  wall.  Lonagan  I  had  met  in  my  office 
once,  perhaps  twice  or  three  times,  on  important 
matters  of  business  —  I  may  say  that  much  now 
he  is  dead.  What  matter  to  me  where  coffee  grows  ? 
I  have  plantations  in  Mexico,  Honduras,  Costa  Rica, 
Brazil;  and  politics  sometimes  may  even  disturb 
coffee.  Undoubtedly  —  and  so  Lonagan  was  shot 
at  last.  With  a  lump  of  tobacco  in  his  cheek,  such 
as  he  always  ate,  he  went  to  the  wall.  It  was  sad 
—  a  brave  man,  and  always  the  tobacco.  He  per- 
ceived me.  He  winked  an  eye  slowly  thus,  as  if 
it  were  a  jest.  When  the  affair  was  concluded,  I 
returned  to  the  hotel,  where  a  peon  handed  me  a 
scrap  of  letter  —  observe."  From  his  breast-pocket 
the  narrator  drew  a  bill-book  and  extracted  a  dirty 
leaf  of  paper.  "  It  is  in  Lonagan's  handwriting. 
I  will  read,  '  It  was  Hervalle  who  double-crossed 
me.  —  P.  L.'  Thus  a  brave  man  died." 

He  sank  back  in  his  chair,  still  holding  the  paper 
in  his  fingers  and  gazing  reflectively  out  across  the 
sea.  We  had  had  a  peep  at  an  obscure  tragedy, 
at  one  of  the  swift  and  merciless  moves  in  the  end- 
less game  being  played  beneath  the  placid  surface 
of  world  affairs. 

"  Del  Hervalle  —  don't  think  I  know  him,"  Brum- 
ley  remarked,  twisting  the  point  of  his  vandyke 
beard.  "  But  men  bob  up  awhile  and  then  rapidly 
out  of  sight  again  down  there ;  besides,  I  've  been 
in  China  the  past  year." 


14  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

The  Mexican  replaced  Lonagan's  letter  and  put 
away  his  wallet.  "  Nothing  is  known  of  this  Del 
Hervalle,  unless  Castro  knows  it,"  he  said,  "  for 
since  this  successful  coup  he  is  high  in  El  Presi- 
dent e's  favor.  Of  all  gun-runners,  Castro  feared 
and  hated  Lonagan  most  —  it  was  a  bull's-eye,  that 
which  Del  Hervalle  made ;  and  then  there  were  other 
matters  in  which  he  had  been  previously  skillful. 
While  still  in  Venezuela  I  made  a  point  to  observe 
him  on  several  occasions,  though  to  look  at  him 
from  a  distance  only,  for  I  myself  did  not  care  to 
become  known.  I  may  have  matters  of  negotiation, 
concessions  to  arrange  —  ah,  caramba,  what  taxes 
these  presidentes  can  imagine  and  invent !  This  Del 
Hervalle  has  honor  conferred  upon  him "  —  the 
Mexican's  eyes  flashed  scornfully  for  an  instant  — 
"  for  he  is  become  Castro's  right  hand  in  govern- 
ment. He  even  now  confers  with  Senor  Moore  on 
matters  pending  between  Venezuela  and  the  United 
States.  Perceive,  a  wonder!  For  Castro  shows 
gratitude ! " 

My  ears  pricked  up  at  the  name  he  mentioned  — 
Elizabeth's  father,  no  other.  Painful  recollections 
swiftly  mounted  to  my  mind,  but  painful  as  they 
were  I  was  still  more  eager  for  information.  So 
I  proceeded  to  question  him,  prefacing  my  inquiries 
with  a  statement  that  I  knew  both  Mr.  Moore  and 
his  daughter. 

"  It  was  my  good  fortune  to  meet  them  just  be- 
fore leaving  Venezuela,"  he  stated.  "  Miss  Moore, 


OLD    WINE   IN    A    NEW    BOTTLE      15 

how  charming !  And  her  beauty  —  all  Caracas 
is  at  her  feet."  With  an  expressive  gesture 
he  indicated  the  worshiping  state  of  that  country's 
capital. 

"  And  did  Mr.  Moore  expect  to  return  to  the 
States?" 

"  Mr.  Moore  mentioned  such  a  possibility  for  this 
summer.  But  that,  my  young  friend,  was  six  months 
ago.  Have  you  also  lost  your  heart  to  the  beautiful 
daughter?  " 

"  Who  would  not  when  one  has  seen  her  ?  "  I 
said  as  gayly  as  possible. 

Did  they  return,  I  should  see  Elizabeth!  Then 
my  spirits  sank.  She  was  no  longer  anything  to  me. 
Since  my  dismissal,  I  had  no  doubt  faded  utterly 
from  her  mind  or,  if  remembered,  it  was  only  to  be 
numbered  among  a  score  of  suitors  who  had  striven 
to  win  her  favor.  When  I  came  out  of  my  medi- 
tation I  found  the  conversation  had  drifted  to 
reminiscence  of  Lonagan's  hazardous  career.  Brum- 
ley  recalled  how  he  had  met  him  in  Mobile,  where 
he  was  temporarily  associated  in  a  venture  with  a 
reckless  handsome  chap. 

"  It  was  their  first  voyage  together,  it  appeared." 

"  You  say  this  other  chap  had  a  scar  on  his 
cheek?  "  I  asked. 

"  From  eye  to  mouth." 

"And  named  Douglass?"  Then  I  turned  to 
Billy.  "  This  was  no  other  than  Frederic  Douglass, 
the  fellow  who  was  at  Forge." 


16  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  So  you  knew  him  ?  "  Brumley  inquired. 

"  Undoubtedly.  A  slender,  fair-haired  Scotch- 
man, scarred,  as  you  state  on  the  cheek,  lithe  and 
active,  polite  or  arrogant  as  suited  his  purpose,  cool 
and  not  afraid  of  the  devil  himself." 

"  That 's  the  chap,  name,  manner,  and  body." 

Then  I  proceeded  to  relate  the  circumstances  of 
my  acquaintance  with  the  man. 

The  wealthy  .New  York  family  of  Fenton  owned 
a  mining  district  in  the  Rockies,  a  camp  called 
Forge.  The  manager  had  filled  the  vacancy  of  as- 
sistant with  this  fellow  Frederic  Douglass,  whom 
he  had  met  somewhere  or  other  casually.  That 
Douglass  was  a  proficient  engineer  enough  there 
could  be  no  question.  In  time  gold  was  missed  and 
the  manager  was  discharged,  to  be  replaced  by  an- 
other engineer,  a  rising  young  chap,  Jack  Maitland, 
who  had  been  a  university  classmate  of  Tom  Fenton. 
But  the  gold  continued  to  shrink.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  Mr.  Fenton,  Sr.,  his  niece,  Ethys,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Arlington,  and  I  went  to  Forge  from  New  York 
for  an  outing.  It  promised  to  be  a  comfortable  one, 
as  Forge  House  was  a  big  stone  mansion  overlooking 
town  and  camp  and  was  used  as  a  residence  by  the 
manager  and  his  assistant.  Douglass,  it  turned  out, 
had  brought  with  him  a  Frenchman,  D'Urville  by 
name,  to  fill  the  position  of  mechanic.  These  two, 
we  later  discovered,  were  old  comrades  in  many  a 
dark  piece  of  work  and  were  now  bent  on  laying 
hands  on  as  much  gold  as  possible  and  making  off 


OLD    WINE   IN   A   NEW    BOTTLE      17 

with  it.    But  the  coming  of  Ethys  Fenton  brought 
a  new  element  into  the  game. 

Both  Maitland  and  Douglass  fell  in  love  with 
her.  The  Scotch  adventurer  was  just  the  man  to 
interest  though  not  attract  a  girl  of  her  tempera- 
ment, and  it  was  not  then  known  that  he  was  a 
disgraced  officer  of  the  British  army,  nor  that  he 
had  engaged  in  dishonorable  businesses  all  over  the 
world  —  in  China,  on  the  Gold  Coast,  in  South 
America,  and  elsewhere.  On  the  other  hand,  Mait- 
land was  an  honest,  skillful,  and  brilliant  man  in  his 
profession.  Any  one  who  had  seen  Ethys  Fenton 
knew  her  loveliness  and  amiability  of  character,  a 
girl  simple,  witty,  and  unspoiled,  notwithstanding 
that  she  was  wealthy  in  her  own  right.  The  clever 
and  unscrupulous  Scot  immediately  set  out  to  win 
her  hand,  destroy  Maitland's  honor  and  good  name, 
and  thus  rid  himself  of  a  rival.  The  camp  he  stirred 
to  mutiny  and  disruption;  he  put  in  operation  a 
scheme  whereby  a  number  of  miscreants  attempted 
to  seize  the  gold,  but  failed;  and  finally  perceiving 
that  discovery  of  his  schemes  threatened  him  and 
his  companion,  D'Urville,  they  did  not  halt  at  mur- 
der in  order  to  extricate  themselves.  These  plots 
nearly  cost  Maitland  his  life.  But  in  the  end  the 
Scot's  web  of  intrigue  broke  down,  he  himself  being 
thoroughly  entangled  in  it,  and  while  attempting  to 
escape,  he  was  shot  by  Maitland.  D'Urville  alone 
we  could  not  lay  hands  on  —  D'Urville,  that  placid, 
ingenious,  plump  little  man.  He  escaped. 


i8  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

"A  remarkable  pair  of  scoundrels,"  Brumley 
remarked. 

"  Say,  I  would  like  to  have  cut  into  that  fun," 
said  Billy. 

The  coffee  merchant  vouchsafed  no  comment,  his 
heavy  eyelids  drooped  a  trifle  sleepily;  he  lighted  a 
fresh  cigar  and  slowly  puffed  it. 

Presently  we  drifted  to  fresh  subjects;  Lonagan, 
Douglass,  and  all  adventurers  were  dismissed.  Out 
upon  the  water  the  silver  glare  was  diminishing,  for 
the  sun  had  dropped  down  to  the  horizon  and  was 
about  to  set.  The  air  grew  cooler,  we  straightened 
up  in  our  chairs  and  talked  more  briskly,  or  watched 
the  distant  sails  of  a  schooner,  golden  in  the  slant- 
ing rays.  Under  our  feet  the  deck  vibrated  steadily 
as  the  steamer  rushed  through  the  water,  pointing 
for  the  Florida  Keys  and  the  swing  northward  which 
would  take  it  to  New  York.  We  watched  the  chang- 
ing water  and  sky,  a-color  with  the  approach  of 
evening,  and  grew  silent. 

All  at  once  the  coffee  merchant  spoke  out  of  his 
long  abstraction. 

"  That  D'Urville,  now." 

"  What  about  him?  "  I  asked. 

"  My  young  friend,  your  D'Urville  is  no  other 
than  Del  Hervalle,  El  Presidente's  friend  and 
adviser." 

"  Good  Heavens !  "  I  exclaimed,  incredulous. 
"  For,  observe,  this  Del  Hervalle  is  no  Venezuelan, 
but  a  Frenchman,  a  cunning  adventurer  who  was 


OLD    WINE   IN    A   NEW    BOTTLE      19 

unknown  until  a  year  ago,  who  had  not  had  a  foot 
in  the  country  until  perhaps  two.  Ah,  you  have 
given  his  picture  perfectly  —  little  and  round  and 
ceremonious,  yes.  He  goes  about  in  a  frock  coat  and 
a  shining  high  hat  and  calls  himself  Del  Hervalle 
—  a  simple  revision  of  the  name.  Your  mechanic 
has  untied  his  apron  and  donned  a  new  garment. 
Ha !  "  And  the  huge  Mexican  gave  himself  up  to 
soft  laughter.  "  Mr.  Wood  worth,  permit  me  to 
congratulate  you  upon  your  friend's  rise  in  the 
world." 

"  But  possibly  you  are  mistaken,"  I  returned,  re- 
luctant to  believe. 

"  You  yourself  said  he  went  aboard  the  vessel 
that  carried  Mr.  Moore  and  his  daughter  south. 
And  now  as  Venezuela's  diplomat  the  very  man 
treats  with  the  Honorable  Senor  Moore.  A  strange 
world,  gentlemen !  " 

A  strange  world,  in  truth. 


CHAPTER   II 

A   GENTLEMAN   OF  A   SINGLE   IDEA 

The  island  of  Lavouche  lies  snug  against  the 
upper  Maine  coast,  and  the  currents  which  wash  its 
sides  have  not  long  ceased  to  be  Canadian  waters. 
A  mile  in  length,  it  has  but  a  third  of  that  width; 
a  virgin  though  not  particularly  dense  growth  of 
wood  covers  it,  chiefly  pine  and  hemlock;   and  the 
northern  half  being  high  though  level  presents  a 
sheer  and  abrupt  face  to  the  sea,  while  the  southern 
part   possesses   a  smooth   and   pleasant   character. 
Whether  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word  it  is  an 
isle,  we  shall  leave  to  geographers  to  determine; 
it  stretches  north  and  south  parallel  with  the  coast, 
sheltered  by  a  point  of  rock  which  some  little  dis- 
tance above  thrusts  itself  out  from  the  mainland, 
for  all  the  world  like  a  brown  thumb.    At  flood  tide 
the  island  is  separated  from  the  main  beach  by  a 
hundred  yards  of  swift  swirling  current,  but  at  ebb 
one  may  cross  where  he  will  on  the  sands.    If  cus- 
tom of  speech  give  any  authority,  then  island  it  is, 
for  the  native  fishermen  have  so  pronounced  it  for 
two  hundred  years,  in  fact  ever  since  that  time  when 
the  little  band  of  Acadians,  driven  from  their  north- 
ern home  and  wandering  in  search  of  another  more 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF   A   SINGLE   IDEA    21 

secure,  first  pushed  keel  upon  its  sands.  What  is 
Lavouche  but  the  corruption,  in  their  patois,  of  lie 
de  la  Bouclie!  To  this  day  you  can  hear  gray-heads 
reciting  old  tales  give  it  the  full  and  ancient  appel- 
lation. Therefore  The  Mouth  it  is,  which  finds 
a  peculiar  significance  in  the  formation  of  the 
coast. 

The  village  of  Lavouche  sits  about  the  middle  of 
the  west  side  of  the  island  on  a  low  floor  of  rock. 
Behind  it  rises  the  cliff  some  fifty  feet  in  height, 
though  this  descends  in  an  abrupt  declivity  to  the 
south  of  the  hamlet,  permitting  a  road  into  the  wood. 
The  houses  are  old,  constructed  by  the  first  comers 
two  centuries  previous,  and  built  in  the  style  which 
prevailed  at  that  period  in  France,  —  of  stone,  the 
upper  story  paneled  with  oak  beams,  steep  and 
hip-roofed,  one  against  another,  thus  making  the 
sides  of  each  dwelling  to  brace  its  neighbors  and 
their  fronts  to  form  two  unbroken  walls  between 
which  runs  the  narrow  street.  At  the  end  of  this 
spreads  the  open  beach,  where  when  the  tide  is  in 
the  fishermen  can  draw  their  boats  high  and  safe, 
when  the  tide  is  out  the  wives  can  cross  afoot  to 
the  west.  The  narrow  channel  between  the  island 
village  and  the  mainland  is,  with  that  quaint  but 
vivid  figurativeness  of  the  French,  named  The 
Throat,  as  the  long  protecting  jet  of  rock  which 
shelters  the  isle  was  called  Le  Dent  —  The  Tooth, 

To  this  spot,  years  before,  my  father  and  his  close 
friend,  Alexander  Moore,  then  young  men,  cruising 


22  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

the  coast  on  a  holiday,  had  put  in  to  escape  a  brew- 
ing storm.  Little  known  to-day,  the  place  was  at 
that  time  undiscovered.  The  charm  of  the  island, 
the  primitive  and  picturesque  life  of  the  village,  the 
simple  hospitality  of  the  fishermen  captivated  the 
pair;  and  each  summer  thereafter  they  made  it  the 
objective  point  of  their  outing.  Later  each  bought  a 
parcel  of  the  island  and  built  him  a  house.  That  of 
Alexander  Moore  was  ambitious.  But  as  my  mother 
had  died,  leaving  only  my  father  and  me,  a  young 
boy,  my  parent  contented  himself  with  erecting  a 
comfortable  one-story  lodge.  Life  here  at  Lavouche 
was  suited  to  my  taste.  I  ran  with  the  village  ur- 
chins, swam,  sailed,  and  dug  in  the  sands  for 
mussels;  and  by  the  time  I  was  fifteen,  when 
I  had  my  last  summer  there  before  going  away 
to  school  for  good,  I  could  handle  a  boat  like  the 
fishermen  and  speak  their  patois  as  fluently  as  they 
themselves. 

Now,  after  so  long  an  interval,  I  was  going  back 
to  see  into  what  fine  brown  fellows  had  grown  Jean 
and  Gaspard  and  Antoine  and  all  the  other  young- 
sters whom  I  had  counted  brothers. 

On  the  pier  in  New  York  our  steamer  party  dis- 
solved; the  coffee  merchant  rolling  away  in  a  taxi- 
cab  to  his  offices,  the  journalist  seeking  his  editorial 
chief,  and  Harrington  making  for  the  ferry.  With 
a  hearty  handshake  he  had  promised  to  join  me  at 
Lavouche  as  soon  as  he  dispatched  his  business  —  a 
week  at  the  outside.  Being  midsummer,  New  York 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF   A   SINGLE   IDEA    23 

was  naturally  empty  of  people  I  knew,  scattered 
where  they  might  escape  its  heat.  So  I  planned  to 
set  out  for  the  north  late  that  afternoon,  where 
Andrew,  my  family  servant,  had  already  departed 
upon  receipt  of  a  wireless  message  sent  by  me  two 
days  previous.  He  would  shake  up  Stag  Lodge  and 
put  it  in  order  against  my  coming.  It  was  just  at 
lunch  time  when  by  a  good  turn  of  fortune  I  ran 
across  Jack  Maitland,  who  had  come  into  town  on 
business. 

"  And  you  never  sent  word  you  were  on  the  way," 
he  reproached,  as  we  sat  down  to  table.  "  I  say, 
Wood  worth,  that 's  shabby  treatment." 

"  I  did  n't  know  but  what  you  were  off  on  a 
cruise." 

"  That  won't  do.  A  wire  to  the  office  would  have 
been  forwarded.  By  Heaven,  you  've  acquired  a 
fine  color!  You  could  sell  yourself  for  a  leather 
antique.  Thinner,  too!  That  life  in  the  saddle 
takes  the  fat  off  a  fellow  like  a  Turkish  bath.  Well, 
there  's  nothing  for  it  now  but  to  come  along  with 
me  to  Newport.  Ethys  will  be  delighted  to  see  you. 
Then  there  's  the  youngster,  whom  you  have  n't  yet 
beheld,  —  one  year  old  last  week." 

I  interrupted  him.  "  See  here,  I  Ve  all  my  plans 
made  to  go  north  at  five  this  afternoon  and  have 
wired  Andrew  to  expect  me  to-morrow." 

"  The  deuce !  I  want  you  to  come,  for  a  month 
or  a  year,  as  you  wish." 

"  That 's  kind,  Jack.     Extend  the  invitation  later 


24  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

and  I  '11  snap  it  up.  Now  it 's  impossible.  I  Ve 
arranged  for  a  friend  to  join  me  up  there." 

"  Well,  you  must  come  later." 

"  That  I  will." 

"  Ethys  will  be  disappointed  when  she  learns 
you  're  here  and  did  not  join  us." 

"  Tell  her  that  I  shall  come  presently  and  hold 
the  baby." 

Our  conversation  drifted  to  general  topics.  I  de- 
scribed my  life  on  the  ranch  to  Jack,  with  whom 
I  had  kept  up  a  more  or  less  desultory  correspond- 
ence, while  he  in  turn  touched  lightly  on  his  business 
successes.  Then  talk  veered  to  old  times  at  Forge. 

"  What  do  you  think,"  said  I,  "  our  friend 
D'Urville  is  prospering." 

"The  devil  he  is!"  Jack  sat  up.  "Has  that 
rogue  bobbed  to  the  surface  once  more  ?  " 

"  Unquestionably.  At  present  he  's  a  friend  of 
President  Castro,  and  if  not  his  right  hand,  at  least 
one  of  his  fingers.  Of  late  he  has  been  conducting 
for  Venezuela  certain  negotiations  in  which  Mr. 
Alexander  Moore  is  the  American  representative 
and  on  which  account  he  has  spent  the  last  year 
and  a  half  in  that  country." 

For  a  moment  Jack  drummed  the  cloth  in  silence. 
"  Well,  that 's  a  rapid  rise,"  he  remarked. 

"  But  -then  anything  may  happen  in  these  pseudo- 
republics,"  I  replied.  "  He  would  be  just  the  man 
to  grasp  opportunities,  just  the  man  to  make  him- 
self indispensable  to  a  president  like  Castro,  for  he 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF   A   SINGLE   IDEA    25 

would  stop  at  nothing  criminal  —  and  meanwhile 
feather  his  nest." 

"  Trust  him  for  that." 

"  But  to  think  of  him  meeting  Mr.  Moore,  and 
perhaps  Elizabeth,  as  a  social  equal !  " 

"Hard  to  swallow,  isn't  it,  Charlie?" 

"  Knowing  what  we  do  of  the  scamp,"  I  added. 

"  I  can't  forget  that  he  's  a  murderer  —  but  Cas- 
tro 's  no  better.  Well,  when  I  see  Mr.  Moore  I  '11 
ask  him  about  the  fellow." 

"  Mr.  Moore  will  be  returning  soon,  I  suppose." 

"  He  has  already  returned,  he  and  Betty.  They 
spent  a  day  with  us,  and  Betty  was  as  lovely  as 
ever.  Were  n't  you  rather  hit  there  once,  Charlie  ?  " 

"  Hard  —  and  still  am,"  I  acknowledged. 

"  Get  busy,  then,"  Maitland  advised  in  a  brisk 
tone. 

"  Busy !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  What  do  you  think  I  'm 
doing,  buying  a  motor  car  ?  " 

Jack  laid  down  his  fork  and  laughed.  "  If  you  're 
really  in  love,  you  should  n't  lose  any  time.  I  did  n't 
in  my  case,  you  '11  perhaps  recollect.  Time  is  pre- 
cious, time  is  golden,  time  is  —  eh  —  "  He  trailed 
off  into  ineptitude.  "  That 's  it,  get  busy  and  win 
out.  She  's  worth  it." 

"  Don't  I  know  that?  "  I  asked  bitterly. 

"  See  here,  Charlie,  I  'm  your  friend.  Come, 
what 's  the  trouble  ?  Perhaps  I  can  advise  you  — 
or  Ethys  can." 

"  All  trouble.     A  year  and  a  half  ago  I  asked 


26  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

her  to  marry  me  and  she  declined.  And  what  do 
you  think  was  her  reason?  Said  I  was  a  boy." 

Jack  smiled  broadly,  but  when  I  glared  at  him 
he  immediately  grew  serious. 

"  Well,  you  're  a  man  now,"  he  said. 

"  That  is  as  may  be." 

"  So  you  '11  go  in  and  win  her." 

"  She  stated  that  her  answer  was  final.  No 
chance." 

"  Oh,  come,  don't  look  on  the  dark  side." 

"  Her  decision  is  irrevocable,"  I  answered. 
"  That 's  why  I  went  to  Texas." 

"  So  that 's  the  explanation,  eh  ?  Ethys  and  I 
wondered  what  was  the  cause  of  your  sudden  exile." 

"  Where  are  they  now,  she  and  her  father  ?  " 

"  Blessed  if  I  can  remember,"  Jack  answered. 
"  Off  somewhere.  Mr.  Moore  wanted  quiet  to 
finish  certain  diplomatic  matters  and  Betty  went 
along.  Ethys  could  give  you  the  name  of  the 
spot." 

"  It 's  immaterial.  If  you  chance  across  him,  ask 
about  D'Urville." 

"  Ah,  I  '11  not  forget  to  do  that." 

"  But  you  must  inquire  concerning  a  Senor  Del 
Hervalle ;  that 's  the  title  he  uses  now." 

"  Oh,  so." 

We  rose  from  the  table  and  walked  together  to 
the  door,  where  we  prepared  to  separate.  As  Jack 
was  turning  away,  he  swung  about  and  caught  me 
by  the  lapel  of  my  coat. 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF   A   SINGLE   IDEA    27 


going?"  he  demanded. 

"  Lavouche." 

He  stood  reflecting.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  Mr. 
Moore  remarked  something  about  going  to  a  spot 
where  he  and  your  father  used  to  summer." 

"  Lavouche,  that 's  the  place." 

"  Well,  if  I  'm  not  mistaken,  you  '11  find  it 's  where 
he  and  Betty  are." 

"  No !  "  I  exclaimed  in  dismay. 

"  Yes,"  retorted  he  with  a  grin.  "  And  just  the 
nook,  too,  to  pick  up  the  broken  thread  of  your 
tender  romance.  A  lonely  island  in  the  sea,  sighing 
boughs,  sparkling  waves,  throbbing  hearts  —  " 

Dum founded  as  I  was  by  the  intelligence  he  had 
given  me,  I  yet  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to 
halt  this  stream  of  mock  sentiment.  "  That 's 
enough  for  this  time,"  I  said,  and  broke  away. 

He  waved  a  hand  after  me  and  called,  "  Be  in- 
dustrious, throw  on  the  high  speed,  come  in  a 
winner." 

From  any  one  but  Maitland  I  would  not  have 
tolerated  such  jesting,  but  the  past  had  closely  knit 
our  friendship  and  I  knew  that  under  his  veil  of  airy 
badinage  he  held  for  me  a  fine  and  loyal  sympathy. 
Nor  had  I  any  embarrassment  to  fear;  he  was  the 
soul  of  discretion.  But  into  this  matter  he  could 
not  see :  never  at  any  time  had  Elizabeth  shown  for 
me,  now  that  I  looked  back,  any  special  affection; 
always  generous,  always  kind  as  she  was,  her  feel- 


28  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

ing  had  not  gone  deeper  than  friendship.  I  had 
failed  to  awaken  a  response  in  her  heart,  that  was  all. 

With  this  uncheerful  consideration  engaging  my 
mind  I  proceeded  to  my  agent's  office,  secured  the 
key  of  my  closed  home,  and  thither  bent  my  steps. 
For,  true  to  my  intention,  I  was  going  to  make  an 
examination  of  the  map  which  I  had  acquired  from 
the  dead  Scot  of  Forge.  I  opened  desks  and  rum- 
maged drawers  and  ransacked  files ;  I  could  not  lay 
hand  on  it  Where  I  had  tossed  it  two  years  before 
upon  returning  from  the  West  I  was  now  unable 
to  recall.  It  was  only  when  the  margin  of  time  left 
for  me  to  catch  my  train  was  growing  slender  that 
I  finally  discovered  it  in  a  chest,  together  with  a 
heap  of  miscellaneous  treasures  of  youthful  days. 
Thereupon  thrusting  it  into  my  bag,  I  rushed  away 
to  catch  a  cab  for  the  station. 

An  hour  later  I  sat  in  my  section  of  a  Pullman 
speeding  northward  from  New  York.  On  my  lap 
lay  outspread  the  map  which  had  fallen  into  my 
hands  so  strangely  and  which  now  after  two  years 
was  beginning  in  my  mind  to  assume  shape  and 
substance  as  a  document  of  highest  import.  It  was 
in  size  a  sheet  perhaps  two  feet  by  three  of  the 
azure  tracing  paper  customarily  employed  by 
draughtsmen  for  making  blue-prints  and  was  as 
fresh  as  the  day  when  first  I  laid  eyes  upon  it. 
Every  dot,  every  stroke  was  clear  and  fine  and 
perfect  —  a  beautiful  piece  of  work,  executed  with 
the  exactness  and  delicacy  of  a  copper  plate.  A 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF   A   SINGLE   IDEA    29 

technical  drawing,  a  dry  skeleton  of  a  plan,  yet 
what  hidden  preparation  of  engineers  and  statesmen 
it  disclosed,  what  secret  labors  of  an  army,  what 
silent  and  sinister  defense  of  a  nation!  It  was  a 
leaf  stolen  from  the  locked  military  book  of  an 
empire.  Sharp,  conscienceless  Douglass!  Whether 
he  had  accomplished  that  astounding  thing,  that  un- 
believable miracle  of  making  his  way  into  a  fortress' 
recesses  and  there  obtaining  its  bounds  and  measure- 
ments, or  whether  by  some  rascality  he  '  had  got 
possession  of  an  original  plan  and  made  a  copy,  I 
could  imagine  him  as  he  bent  over  his  table  marking 
off  points  with  rule  and  compass,  dipping  pen  in 
ink,  drawing  with  skillful  unhurried  hand,  and  mean- 
time calculating  in  his  crafty  brain  where  his  product 
would  find  its  best  price.  There  were  always  mar- 
kets for  such  wares.  Yes,  sharp  Douglass,  it  was 
a  business  he  delighted  in;  he  would  have  stolen 
his  own  boots  and  sold  them  if  he  thought  to  take 
profit  from  the  deed ;  his  fingers  were  always  itching 
for  secrets,  intrigues,  and  unlawful  contrivances. 
Once  finished,  the  sheet  would  bring  him  a  fat  bag 
of  gold.  England  would  have  bargained  with  him, 
France  would  have  beamed  on  him,  Russia  would 
have  opened  her  heavy  purse.  Moreover,  here  upon 
the  margin,  bringing  it  to  intelligible  completion,  he 
had  annotated  the  work  with  a  memorandum  in 
German  script.  I  could  imagine  his  sardonic  smile, 
for  it  was  just  the  sort  of  humor  to  amuse  his  dia- 
bolical soul,  this  filching,  at  the  conclusion,  of  the 


3o  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

nation's  very  tongue.  I  gazed  at  the  sheet.  What 
fortress  did  it  outline  ?  What  stronghold  did  it  be- 
tray ?  One,  no  doubt,  of  that  mighty  cordon  which 
girt  the  Empire  with  stone  and  steel  and  bristling 
guns. 

Something  of  the  grave  character  of  the  chart 
began  to  impress  me.  Here  was  I,  a  young  fellow, 
an  ordinary  American,  one  without  interest  in  the 
German  Empire;  indeed,  one  who  had  never  given 
two  thoughts  to  her  affairs,  come  by  a  singular 
chain  of  circumstances  into  possession  of  this  docu- 
ment. .Now,  verily,  it  seemed  to  grow  ominous  in 
my  hands.  Hitherto  I  had  given  it  little  consider- 
ation, flung  it  into  an  old  chest  with  other  idle 
rubbish;  but  as  I  gazed  upon  it  I  perceived  that 
it  was  one  of  those  things  that,  wherever  it  might 
be,  whoever  had  it,  could  never  prove  insignificant 
and  never  idle.  The  nation  concerned  was  too 
powerful  and  the  issue  at  stake  too  mighty,  and 
once  it  became  known  that  this  sheet  was  in  exist- 
ence, no  obstacle  would  halt  Germany  on  the  one 
hand  or  her  enemies  on  the  other  in  an  effort  to 
seize  it.  In  truth  it  was  fraught  with  future  com- 
plications, electric  with  possibilities.  I  could  de- 
stroy it  —  but  against  that  my  mind  cried  out. 
The  mystery,  the  spicy  odor  of  things  unknown 
and  momentous  that  clung  to  it,  the  beck  it  made, 
the  suggestion  to  fling  aside  fear  and  challenge  fate, 
fascinated  me  as  a  red  flag  charms  and  holds  im- 
movable the  startled  deer.  No,  I  could  not  destroy 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF   A   SINGLE   IDEA    31 

it.  And  as  if  fate,  now  that  my  decision  was  made, 
would  at  once  put  me  to  the  touch,  a  harsh  voice 
spoke  at  my  shoulder: 

"  Where  did  you  get  that !  " 

I  whirled  about  in  my  seat,  unconsciously  clutch- 
ing the  map  in  a  defensive  grip. 

There  in  the  aisle  and  a  step  behind  my  shoulder 
stood  a  tall  gentleman  scowling  at  me.  His  hair 
and  upturned  moustache  were  fair,  his  eyes  blue, 
his  smooth  cheeks  and  milk-rose  complexion  that  of 
the  typical  Saxon;  his  figure,  though  inclined  to 
fleshiness,  was  nevertheless  erect,  almost  stiffly  so, 
apparent  notwithstanding  the  easy  hang  of  his  loose 
though  fashionably  cut  apparel  of  white  serge.  He 
lifted  the  walking  stick  he  carried  and  pointed  at 
my  prize,  repeating  his  question  in  excellent  English. 

"  That,"  said  I,  recovering  self-possession,  "  is 
entirely  my  own  affair."  And  rapidly  rolling  it  up, 
I  placed  it  out  of  sight  in  my  bag. 

"  It 's  a  plan  of  a  fortification." 

"  Whatever  it  is,  it 's  my  own  business.  You 
assume  a  great  deal  as  a  stranger  when  you  cate- 
chize me." 

"  Of  a  German  fortification." 

"  You  made  good  use  of  your  eyes." 

"  Let  me  inquire  how  and  where  it  came  into  your 
possession?  " 

"  By  all  means." 

"  You  do  not  give  me  an  answer,"  he  stated 
after  a  pause. 


32  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

"A  question  is  one  thing,  an  answer  another. 
The  first  may  be  an  annoyance,  and  the  questioner 
impertinent.  I  trust,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  catch 
my  full  meaning." 

What  I  should  do  with  the  map  I  had  no  idea; 
but  I  did  not  intend  to  make  it  free  to  any  passer-by, 
least  of  all  a  German.  Consequently  my  resentment. 
On  his  part  a  dark  flush  suffused  his  face  at  my 
words  and  his  eyes  blazed  hot,  but  his  self-repression 
was  admirable.  He  lifted  his  straw  hat  in  scornful 
acknowledgment  and  passed  up  the  aisle  to  his  seat 
in  the  opposite  end  of  the  car. 

I  considered  the  incident  at  an  end,  for  the  man 
was  clearly  a  gentleman,  and  could  account  for  his 
conduct  only  upon  the  ground  of  unusual  interest 
or  some  special  knowledge.  He  was  or  had  been 
concerned  with  German  army  affairs.  His  swift 
recognition  of  the  character  of  the  map  bespoke  an 
intimate  knowledge  of  military  defense,  though  his 
questions  showed  plainly  that  he  did  not  identify 
the  fortress  which  it  outlined.  But,  as  I  was  soon 
to  learn,  the  man  had  by  no  means  abandoned  his 
purpose  of  discovering  what  he  wished  to  know. 

That  night  upon  retiring  I  considered  the  circum- 
stance of  my  mild  clash  with  the  unknown.  The 
map  was  in  my  bag,  the  bag  under  the  berth,  sleep 
descending  upon  the  travelers  as  evidenced  by  more 
or  less  wheezy  aspirations,  and  the  aisle  would  pres- 
ently be  a  dim  and  curtained  lane  in  which  any 
trespasser  could  move  with  little  fear  of  detection. 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF   A   SINGLE   IDEA    33 

The  map  would  be  far  safer  by  my  person.  Taking 
it  out  of  its  receptacle,  I  folded  it  carefully  into  a 
flat  package  and  slipped  around  it  a  rubber  band. 
Thus  it  was  compact  and  could  later  be  carried  in 
a  pocket.  Sometime  in  the  night  I  awoke.  My 
curtains  were  stirring  gently  as  by  a  touch.  A 
low  sound  of  something  being  dragged  came  to  my 
alert  ear;  the  German,  if  the  German  it  was,  was 
now  engaged  in  the  very  depredation  which  I  had 
anticipated.  A  sudden  lurch  of  the  car  threw  the 
night  prowler  against  my  berth,  with  which  I  sprang 
up,  lunged  forward,  and  thrust  forth  a  hand  to 
catch  him.  Out  upon  the  thief  I  fell  in  a  whirl 
of  bed-clothing  and  curtains  in  a  mad  endeavor 
to  get  a  grip  on  his  limbs.  Over  and  over  we 
rolled  and  twisted,  struggling  in  the  dim  reduced 
light;  I  could  distinguish  nothing  of  the  man,  only 
feel  his  body.  Then  came  a  muttered  curse,  an 
upheaval,  the  patter  of  retreating  feet,  and  I  re- 
mained alone  and  wrapped  like  some  netted  ani- 
mal, to  extricate  myself  at  leisure.  When  finally 
I  stood  up,  pa  jama-clad,  rumpled,  annoyed,  I  be- 
held the  astonished  porter  before  me,  while  stick- 
ing out  from  between  hangings  were  half  a  dozen 
heads. 

"  Fo'  Heaven  sake,  suh,  what  you  doin'  ? "  the 
negro  exclaimed. 

"  Trying  to  catch  a  thief,"  I  said  shortly. 

"  They  ain't  no  thieves  in  this  car,  fo'  I  'se  wide 
awake  and  would  have  seen  'em." 


34  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

"  But  it  was  a  thief." 

"  No,  suh,  yo'  mistaken,  I  don't  'low  thieves 
round." 

"  Then  it  was  no  doubt  a  phantom,"  I  retorted, 
"  or  a  dinosaurus,  with  which  I  was  wrestling  here 
on  the  floor." 

"  That 's  all  right,  suh,  everything  's  quiet  now. 
Yo'  can  sleep  some  mo'.  I  '11  see  none  of  them 
nightmare  animals  like  you  mention  runs  'round  in 
the  aisle." 

To  such  grinning  incredulity  there  was  no  reply. 
I  returned  to  bed.  As  for  the  German  he  would 
go,  as  was  now  apparent,  to  greater  lengths  than 
I  had  imagined  from  his  single  accidental  attempt 
to  look  at  the  map.  Truly,  this  strange  property 
was  already  beginning  to  exercise  a  potency,  a  grow- 
ing capacity  for  mischief,  which  promised  to  involve 
me  in  I  did  not  know  what  difficulties.  Well,  at  any 
rate,  I  still  kept  it  unstolen. 

The  arrangement  which  I  had  wired  Andrew  was 
that  he  should  meet  me  at  Penosset,  the  nearest 
railroad  station  to  Lavouche,  in  order  to  convey 
me  and  my  luggage  to  the  island.  The  sun  was 
not  more  regular  than  Andrew;  it  was  therefore 
with  some  surprise  that  I  stepped  upon  the  station 
platform  and  found  nothing  of  my  servant.  I  ap- 
proached the  agent,  a  gaunt,  stooped,  melancholy 
individual,  and  inquired  if  my  telegram  had  been 
forwarded  to  Lavouche.  It  had  not;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  was  still  on  file  in  the  depot  office ;  no  one 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF   A   SINGLE   IDEA    35 

had  called  for  it,  he  explained,  and  when  I  pro- 
tested that  telegrams  were  to  be  delivered,  he 
scratched  his  chin-whisker  and  answered,  "  We  ain't 
much  in  a  hurry  here  in  Penosset."  Of  that  he 
spoke  truly,  for  the  town  appeared  abandoned, 
mouldy  and  ready  to  tumble  down;  behind  it  a 
small  swale  ran  somewhere  southward,  a  creek  when 
the  tide  was  out,  an  estuary  of  the  sea  when  the 
tide  was  in;  the  few  ramshackle  buildings  were 
blackened  by  fogs  and  mists  and  looked  all  the  more 
dismal  because  of  the  melancholy  pines  in  which 
they  sat.  All  was  dissolution. 

As  Lavouche  was,  however,  but  two  or  three  miles 
away,  I  determined  to  walk  the  distance  instead  of 
trying  to  find  some  vehicle  in  this  hopeless  town 
with  which  to  convey  myself  to  my  destination.  I 
turned  about,  after  making  sure  of  the  road  I  should 
take,  and  started  down  the  platform.  A  man  stood 
before  me  —  lo,  the  German!  Where  he  had  kept 
himself  out  of  observation  on  the  train,  I  had  no 
idea ;  in  any  case  he  had  succeeded  in  doing  so,  for 
I  had  not  seen  him  since  the  night  before.  Here 
he  was  for  a  fact,  his  blond  moustache  carefully 
brushed  upward  at  the  ends  in  the  manner  of  his 
autocratic  Emperor,  straw  hat  set  squarely  on  his 
head  and  his  eyes  upon  me  intent  with  purpose. 

"  In  the  matter  of  that  map  —  " 

He  courteously  raised  his  hat  as  he  spoke;  but  I 
immediately  cut  him  off  without  permitting  a  finish 
of  his  statement. 


36  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

"  See  here,  whoever  you  are,  did  you  stop  off 
the  train  in  order  to  bring  up  this  subject?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  you  have  your  trouble  for  your  pains," 
said  I,  marching  past  him,  "  and  a  long  wait  in 
this  deserted  town.  Good  day,  sir." 

Striding  briskly  forward,  I  entered  the  wood  and 
set  out  along  a  sandy  road  that  led  eastward  towards 
the  seashore.  On  either  side  stood  a  thin  growth 
of  pines,  breaking  the  sunshine  into  patches  and 
blots,  spreading  their  odor  of  balsam  upon  thq 
air  to  mingle  with  the  salty  smell  of  the  sea. 
Coarse  grass  struggled  up  in  bunches  here  and 
there  between  the  tracks  cut  in  the  sand  by  cart- 
wheels; the  boughs  about  me  swayed  and  sighed 
in  the  light  breeze.  And  altogether  the  afternoon, 
now  not  far  from  sunset,  was  as  charming  a  one 
in  which  to  be  abroad  as  the  road  was  pleasant  to 
follow. 

Presently  the  pines  thinned,  then  ceased,  and  the 
track  winding  its  way  for  two  hundred  yards  or  so 
through  sparsely  grassed  sand-dunes  at  last  opened 
upon  the  beach.  What  a  beautiful  picture  it  was! 
I  halted  to  give  myself  a  full  deep  draught  of  the 
scene.  Far  northward,  so  far  that  it  was  scarcely 
distinguishable,  I  could  make  out  the  lighthouse  that 
guarded  this  part  of  the  coast ;  southward  and  not 
half  a  mile  away,  the  long  round-backed  rock  La 
Dent  thrust  itself  directly  across  the  beach  and  ex- 
tended into  the  sea.  Directly  before  me  stretched 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF   A   SINGLE   IDEA    37 

the  curving  strand,  washed  by  combers  that  un- 
rolled their  fringe  of  foam  with  steady  insistent 
sound.  The  sun  just  touching  the  tips  of  the  pines 
still  slanted  on  the  sea;  the  swaying  surface  melted 
into  gold,  while  the  top  of  the  swells,  broken  into 
a  hundred  tiny  waves  by  a  gentle  breeze,  sparkled 
and  flashed  from  every  facet.  Even  as  I  gazed  the 
sun  sank  behind  the  wood.  A  shadow  crept  forth 
upon  the  water,  the  rosy  warmth  faded  from  the 
beach,  leaving  it  dead  and  gray;  the  waves  no 
longer  shot  flashing  beams,  and  only  the  sails  of 
a  boat  far  out  yet  held  the  golden  light. 

With  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  I  turned  and  set  my 
feet  for  La  Dent,  on  the  farther  side  of  which  lay 
the  village.  The  north  end  of  the  island  was  visible, 
its  cliff- face  surmounted  by  wood,  peeping  out  be- 
yond the  end  of  the  huge  protecting  ridge  of  The 
Tooth.  Leisurely,  contented  in  mind,  glad  with  the 
wide  gladness  of  the  sea,  I  walked  on,  keeping  close 
to  the  border  of  flotsam  cast  up  by  the  waves. 
Each  roller  curved  forward,  uncurled  its  crest  and 
breaking  spread  swiftly  up  the  sand  almost  to  my 
feet  in  a  glassy  sheet  surfaced  with  bubbles.  In 
the  line  of  drift  were  tiny  spiral  shells,  knots  of 
sea-weed,  buds  torn  off  submarine  plants,  water- 
worn  sticks,  all  the  curious  and  fragmentary  plunder 
that  stirs  imagination  as  to  the  unknown  realms  in 
that  world  beneath  the  sea. 

Out  of  my  abstraction  I  was  all  at  once  roused 
by  a  figure  which  emerged  before  me  from  the 


38  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

dunes.  Again  it  was  the  German ;  would  the  fellow 
never  have  done?  Obviously  he  had  followed,  cut 
across  among  the  hillocks  of  sand,  and  thus  inter- 
cepted me.  This  affair  could  no  longer  be  called 
trivial.  When  I  drew  near  to  him,  he  placed  him- 
self in  front  of  me  and  lifted  his  hand. 

"  I  regret  very  much,  sir,  to  importune  you,"  he 
greeted,  "  but  I  must  demand  that  I  be  permitted 
to  examine  the  map  you  carry."  He  spoke  rapidly 
and  firmly. 

"  Demand !    That 's  a  strong  word." 
"  I  mean  no  discourtesy,  nevertheless  I  must  re- 
quire you  to  show  me  that  plan  of  fortification." 

"  See  here,"  said  I,  "  I  don't  know  who  you  are, 
nor  do  I  care  to  know,  but  since  you've  thrust 
yourself  into  my  business,  annoyed  me  with  ques- 
tions, attempted  to  rifle  my  baggage,  followed  me 
persistently,  and  now  seek  to  intimidate  me,  I  '11 
state  plainly  that  my  patience  is  exhausted,  that  I 
shall  not  tolerate  it  further,  and  that  you  '11  have  to 
abide  by  any  future  consequences." 

Thereupon  I  placed  my  bag  on  the  sand  and  in 
my  turn  waited.  The  first  move  should  be  his,  but 
I  intended  to  be  prepared  for  it  whatever  form  it 
might  take.  Yet  it  was  difficult  to  believe  he  would 
resort  to  violence;  and  I  was  confirmed  in  this 
opinion  by  reason  of  his  standing  in  perplexity. 
After  a  moment  he  drew  himself  together. 

"  Sir,  you  've  impugned  my  motives  and  my 
honor,"  he  said  with  dignity,  "  but  I  let  that  pass. 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF   A   SINGLE   IDEA    39 

I  even  go  farther  —  I  make  an  appeal.  I  am  a 
German,  as  you  have  readily  guessed;  I  behold  in 
the  hands  of  a  stranger  and  alien  a  plan  of  one  of 
my  country's  fortifications,  or  what  I  believe  to 
be  such.  I  ask  you  to  permit  me  to  examine  it 
and  if  it 's  not  what  I  think  it,  I  '11  tender  you  an 
ample  apology.  You  say  that  I  interfere  in  your 
affairs.  Is  it  not  you  rather  who  are  interfering 
in  the  affairs  of  my  Emperor?  What  right  have 
you  to  that  map?  " 

"  Well,  at  present  I  've  the  right  of  possession," 
I  said. 

"  Ah ! "  A  scornful  smile  broke  over  his  face. 
"  Then  it 's  another  kind  of  man  I  have  to  deal 
with.  I  was  stupid  not  to  discover  that  earlier. 
Name  your  price;  I  have  money." 

At  this  speech  my  blood  began  to  beat  a  little 
more  warmly.  He  believed  me  an  adventurer.  Or 
hold!  A  suspicion  flashed  through  my  mind.  Was 
the  man  acting  a  part?  What,  after  all,  was  he? 
Douglass,  the  scoundrel  whose  hand  had  drawn  the 
map,  had  been  just  such  an  adept  at  assuming  vir- 
tuous ardor.  Had  I  here  another  double-dealer  who 
fancied  to  intimidate  me  out  of  the  paper? 

"  I  'm  not  in  the  market  to-day,"  said  I. 

"  I  demand  to  see  it." 

"  The  demand  coming  from  the  person  who  en- 
deavored last  night  to  break  open  my  hand-bag  car- 
ries little  weight." 

His  face  flushed,  hardened.     The  fingers  holding 


40  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

his  walking  stick  shifted  and  gripped  the  wood.  I 
gathered  myself,  alert,  tense,  keeping  a  watchful 
eye  on  his  every  move.  He  drew  his  hat  more  firmly 
upon  his  head. 

"  For  the  last  time,  will  you  give  it  to  me  ?  " 

"  No." 

The  stick  flashed  up,  then  swiftly  descended.  Had 
it  fallen  upon  its  mark,  my  skull  would  have  been 
cracked;  the  weapon  was  stout  and  the  force  im- 
pelling it  savage.  But  I  swerved  aside,  at  the  same 
instant  leaning  forward  and  shooting  my  fist  against 
the  man's  jaw.  His  cane  barely  brushed  my  shoul- 
der ;  my  knuckles  however  caught  his  chin  squarely ; 
he  staggered,  his  hat  spun  off,  rolling  on  the  sand. 
Without  waiting  to  measure  the  effect  of  my  blow 
I  struck  again,  and  this  time  he  dropped  full  length. 

I  stood  over  him  rubbing  my  bruised  knuckles. 
His  figure  was  relaxed,  his  fingers  lay  limply  open 
from  which  the  stick  had  dropped,  his  eyes  were 
closed.  He  stirred,  while  his  lips  twitched ;  a  groan 
issued  from  his  lips.  It  was  a  knock-out  I  had  given 
him,  clean,  quick,  and  one  —  I  smiled  grimly  — 
that  the  man  would  not  soon  forget.  But,  beyond 
his  temporary  senselessness  and  the  sore  jaw  he 
would  nurse  to-morrow,  the  fellow  was  uninjured. 
So  seizing  my  bag  I  set  off  at  a  good  pace  and  ten 
minutes  later  I  was  mounting  the  round  brown  back 
of  La  Dent.  A  cart  road  twisted  up  where  the 
acclivity  was  easiest,  but  I  remembered  a  shorter  path 
that  the  fishermen  used  and  up  this  made  my  way. 


A   GENTLEMAN   OF   A   SINGLE   IDEA    41 

And  all  the  while  my  mind  revolved  around  the  map. 
What  next!  So  far,  and  when  only  twenty- four 
hours  out  of  the  oaken  chest,  it  had  brought  me 
to  blows.  Like  the  fisherman  of  the  Arabian  tale 
who  opened  a  vessel  drawn  up  in  his  net,  I  had 
released  a  genie  of  trouble ;  would  I,  like  him,  suc- 
ceed in  restoring  it  to  its  jar? 

When  I  reached  the  top  of  the  rock,  I  paused  and 
turned  about  for  a  last  look  at  my  antagonist. 

"  Of  all  things  under  heaven ! "  I  exclaimed  in 
astonishment. 

For  there  three  hundred  yards  distant  on  the 
sandy  beach,  plodding  steadily  towards  me,  came 
the  indefatigable  German. 


CHAPTER   III 

AN   AFTERNOON   AT   LAVOUCHE 

Stag  Lodge  —  so  named  because  here  in  an  early 
day  my  father  shot  an  elk  which  had  wandered 
from  the  mainland,  whose  head  now  surmounted 
the  great  fireplace  —  stood  at  the  southern  end  of 
the  island.  Behind  it  spread  the  fragrant  wood; 
before  it  a  gentle  slope,  upon  which  grew  only  an 
occasional  tree  or  clump  of  bushes,  ran  down  to  the 
beach.  The  structure  was  a  plain,  solid,  unpreten- 
tious one,  of  a  single  story,  low-roofed,  wide,  and 
built  of  natural  logs.  A  spacious  veranda  extended 
entirely  around  it;  a  lofty  pine  guarded  its  door, 
past  whose  trunk  a  path  descended  to  a  small  wharf ; 
within,  there  were  half  a  dozen  rooms,  one  a  living- 
room,  raftered  with  heavy  beams,  paneled  in  oak, 
furnished  as  my  father  had  loved  it  with  plain 
massive  furniture,  rugs,  books,  a  few  sea-pictures, 
old  pewter,  and  having  in  its  end  the  aforementioned 
great  stone  fireplace. 

Here  it  was  on  the  second  day  after  my  arrival 
that  I  sat  snug  before  the  crackling  hearth  while 
a  storm  raged  without.  Even  in  summer  when  a 
gale  sweeps  the  island  a  fire  is  welcome,  for  a  nor'- 
easter  brings  a  sharp  edge  to  the  Maine  coast;  and 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  LAVOUCHE  43 

so,  while  the  boughs  lashed  the  roof  and  the  rain 
beat  the  windows,  I  sat  with  legs  outstretched  and 
smoked  a  pipe  in  abundant  comfort.  The  hurricane 
had  burst  the  night  of  my  coming  to  Lavouche  and 
was  only  now  beginning  to  diminish  in  fury.  There- 
fore, I  reflected,  every  one  had  kept  indoors  and  the 
Moores  knew  not  that  they  had  me  for  a  neighbor. 

"You've  not  seen  any  of  them?"  I  asked 
Andrew. 

He  sat  opposite  me,  his  soles  toasting  before  the 
flame,  a  churchwarden  pipe  in  his  hand. 

"  No,  Master  Charles."  He  persisted  in  address- 
ing me  as  he  had  done  when  I  was  a  youngster 
and  as  he  would  in  all  probability  continue  to  do 
during  the  rest  of  his  life.  "  No,  Master  Charles, 
I  've  not.  But  then  I  've  been  very  busy  preparing 
the  Lodge.  You  '11  be  very  glad  to  see  them,  I  'm 
sure,  and  they  '11  be  very  glad  to  see  you." 

Andrew  was  stout  and  old  and  deliberate.  He 
had  devoted  his  life  to  service  in  the  family  of 
Woodworths;  he  could  not  conceive  so  impossible 
a  thing  as  anybody  not  being  glad  to  see  a  Wood- 
worth.  Moreover  I  did  not  attempt  to  instruct 
him  that  such  might  be  the  state  of  mind  of  the 
Moores. 

Presently  he  said,  "  Yes,  Mr.  Moore  will  be 
charmed  to  see  you  —  as  he  was  always  delighted 
to  see  your  father." 

"  Are  he  and  Betty  here  alone?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed.     Jean  informed  me,  when  he 


44  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

brought  the  provisions  for  the  pantry,  that  there 
is,  besides  Mr.  Moore  and  his  daughter,  a  young 
lady  who  is  visiting  Miss  Betty,  and  two  gentlemen 
—  quite  a  houseful,  Master  Charles." 

Of  conversing  with  Andrew  I  never  wearied. 
His  style  carried  a  reminiscence,  a  first  fragrance 
of  that  period  when  as  a  young  man  he  had  been 
trained  by  my  grandfather  —  the  period  of  hair- 
sofas,  wax  flowers,  crinolines,  and  Civil  War  bal- 
lads. He  had  remained  in  that  age. 

"  Quite  a  houseful  for  a  fact,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  but  Moore  House  is  large." 

"  True." 

"  And  Miss  Betty  likes  people  about." 

"  Also  true." 

"  She  will  rejoice  to  see  you,  Master  Charles,  I  'm 
sure  "  —  he  paused,  thoughtfully  puffing  his  pipe  — 
"  for  I  think  she  has  a  fond  affection  for  you,  indeed 
I  do." 

"  What  leads  you  to  that  conclusion,  Andrew  ?  " 

"  Because  two  weeks  ago,  as  I  was  polishing  the 
door-plate  of  the  house  in  New  York,  she  came 
up  the  step  and  addressed  me.  She  was  but  newly 
returned  from  South  America,  where  she  had  been 
sojourning,  and  she  inquired  after  you,  Master 
Charles,  and  I  said  you  were  very  well.  '  I  hope 
he  will  do  no  foolish  thing  because  of  the  letter 
I  wrote,'  said  she.  I  said,  '  He  's  already  done  it, 
Miss  Betty ;  he  's  been  gone  a  wanderer  the§e  two 
years.'  Then  she  stood  awhile  looking  sorrowful. 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  LAVOUCHE  45 

So  I  know  her  tender  heart  was  grieved.  In  conse- 
quence I  said,  '  I  '11  write  to  Master  Charles  to  come 
home.'  And  she  cried  out,  *  No,  no !  But  I  would 
like  to  see  him,  Andrew,  if  he  were  here.' ' 

"The  deuce  she  did!" 

"  Yes,  and  then  she  went  away.  So  I  think  she 
has  a  fond  affection  for  you." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  I. 

"  I  do,  indeed." 

We  sat  and  smoked  in  silence,  but  at  last  I  grew 
restive.  I  could  no  longer  sit  in  peace  while  the 
wild  hope  he  had  awakened  struggled  in  my  breast, 
so  against  Andrew's  protest  I  drew  on  my  oil- 
skins. Action  was  what  I  needed;  I  would  breast 
my  way  against  the  gale  to  the  village,  for,  as 
it  was,  this  was  the  second  day  I  had  been  cooped 
up.  Out  of  the  house  therefore  I  made  my  way, 
sluiced  as  I  went  with  rain  and  buffeted  by  roaring 
gusts. 

Evidences  however  that  the  storm  was  spending 
itself  were  at  hand.  Now  and  again  a  lull  occurred 
between  the  fierce  blasts  of  wind ;  the  rain  no  longer 
dashed  down  steadily,  but  blew  across  the  sea  in 
lessening  squalls,  and  this  storm-veil  which  blotted 
out  all  sight  was  half  the  time  but  fog  and  spin- 
drift; overhead  the  clouds  were  breaking,  permit- 
ting brief  fleeting  bars  of  sunshine  to  shoot  slant- 
ing down  on  earth  or  sea,  while  far  out  along  the 
horizon  there  glimmered  a  pale  and  azure  light  that 
betokened  a  welcome  change  of  weather.  I  fol- 


46  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

lowed  the  western  beach  to  the  village.  Huge  waves 
pursued  each  other  along  the  black  waters,  a  heavy 
surf  thundered  on  all  shores,  and  The  Throat,  choked 
with  storm-driven  floods,  boiled  and  tossed  in  a 
mad  current  not  born  of  any  tide. 

Coming  down  from  his  little  patch  of  garden 
which  lay  in  a  clearing  in  the  fringe  of  pines  near- 
by the  village,  I  perceived  Gaspard  Levesque.  He 
was  a  little,  withered  old  fellow,  the  boat-maker  of 
the  community  and  an  inveterate  though  harmless 
gossip.  Next  after  God  he  loved  his  boats,  his  vege- 
tables, and  good  talk.  He  was  bent  over  by  much 
carpentering,  but  he  was  spry,  and  both  fingers  and 
tongue  were  very  nimble. 

"  Hola,  is  it  you,  Charles  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  peer- 
ing at  me  from  under  his  hat.  "  I  heard  that  you 
passed  through  the  village  two  evenings  ago  upon 
your  arrival.  It 's  long  and  you  are  big  since  last 
you  were  here."  He  shook  my  hand,  delighted, 
chattering. 

"  You  're  no  older  to-day  than  yesterday,  this  year 
than  the  twenty  past,  uncle,"  I  answered. 

"  Ah,  except  in  the  left  leg,  which  is  worthless 
with  rheumatism." 

"  And  Lavouche  —  tell  me  all  the  news." 

"  Alas,  we  've  had  many  changes,  many  unfor- 
tunate changes." 

Coming  into  the  village  and  to  his  house,  which 
was  at  the  near  end  of  the  street,  we  entered  the 
workshop,  one  large  single  room  which  comprised 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  LAVOUCHE  47 

the  whole  ground  floor.  In  the  rear  there  was 
a  wide  arched  door,  now  closed,  through  which 
boats  could  be  brought  or  dispatched  on  rollers, 
a  door  wide  enough  to  allow  the  passage  of  a 
great  wain.  An  odor  of  new  pine  permeated  the 
air;  on  the  walls  were  suspended  tools  and  bundles 
of  wood;  boards  were  piled  along  the  sides;  over 
the  floor  were  strewn  little  heaps  of  shavings; 
while  on  a  pair  of  cross-trees  rested  an  upturned 
boat. 

Lavouche  had  been,  I  soon  perceived  from  his 
account,  not  greatly  disturbed  by  events;  indeed, 
its  life  these  fifteen  years  past  was  for  the  most  part 
placid  as  the  sea  on  a  summer  day.  Death  had 
come  now  and  again  among  its  members,  as  might 
be  expected  and  in  the  natural  pursuance  of  their 
occupations;  births  kept  the  community  at  its  sta- 
tionary number ;  and  fishing  went  on  very  much  as 
God  would  have  it,  that  is  to  say,  with  good  years 
and  bad  years.  All  told,  the  village  had  now  some 
hundred  and  fifty  souls  —  two-score  of  men  and  an 
equal  number  of  wives,  a  dozen  youths  with  numer- 
ous maidens  ready  for  marriage,  and  children  thick 
as  shoals  of  herring.  "  Yet  it  was  not  what  it  once 
was,  this  village,"  he  said  with  a  sigh,  "  for,  look ! 
there  are  a  dozen  empty  houses  along  the  street. 
No,  three  quarters  of  a  century  ago  Lavouche 
throve,  what  with  fat  fish  and  occasional  and  harm- 
less smuggling;  but  to-day  the  fish  are  seldom  fat 
and  there  is  no  smuggling  at  all."  True,  there  had 


48  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

been  some  new-comers  lately,  three  or  four  fellows, 
who  had  arrived  from  Canada  and  before  that  from 
France.  They  were  not  however  so  industrious  or 
peace-loving  as  the  fishermen  of  Lavouche ;  they  had 
seen  the  world  at  Brest,  Rochelle,  Quebec,  and 
found  the  wine  of  the  inn  here  more  to  their  taste 
than  the  spray  tossed  by  fishing-boats.  Quarrels 
were  also  frequent  among  them.  But  if  they  chose 
to  stay,  what  could  be  done?  And  old  Gaspard 
spread  his  hands  and  lifted  his  brows. 

Agreeing  with  him  that  nothing  whatever  could 
be  done,  I  took  my  way  up  the  gusty  street  to  where 
reposed  the  inn.  I  remembered  the  inn-woman 
vividly,  a  plump  undemonstrative  person  who  sat 
at  her  window  knitting  all  day  long,  rising  only  to 
serve  her  patrons  or,  if  argument  grew  noisy,  to  ex- 
claim, "  Quiet,  quiet !  "  Her  remarkable  powers  of 
long  silence  and  brief  response  had  formerly  stirred 
my  boyish  wonder;  now  I  was  curious  to  see  if 
time  had  made  her  more  garrulous.  But  in  this 
anticipation  of  a  change  I  was  to  be  disappointed; 
when  I  had  taken  a  seat  near  her  and  she  had 
brought  me  a  goblet  of  red  wine,  I  opened  the  con- 
versation, after  a  glance  at  the  dim  rear  of  the 
long  room  where  half  a  dozen  men  were  gathered 
round  a  table. 

"Do  you  remember  me?  I  am  Charles  Wood- 
worth." 

"  Yes,"  said  she. 

"  It 's  been  a  long  time  since  I  had  the  pleasure 


AN    AFTERNOON    AT    LAVOUCHE    49 

of  seeing  you,  Madame  Corbeau.  Custom  still  con- 
tinues good  ?  All  goes  well  ?  "  A  single  affirmative 
answered  these  questions.  "  My  old  playmates  must 
be  grown-up  men,  where  are  they?  There  was 
Antoine  Revillion  —  " 

"  Here." 

"Pierre  Trombard?" 

"  Fishing." 

"  And  Louis  Loumes?  " 

"  Drowned." 

"  Then  where  is  Jean,  whom  I  liked  best  of  all 
and  who  now  is  undoubtedly  a  big  strong  fellow? 
We  were  of  an  age,  madame,  and  like  brothers. 
Where  can  I  find  Jean  ?  " 

She  laid  down  her  knitting  and  uttered  a  shrill 
call.  A  sleepy  tousle-headed  boy  appeared,  whom 
she  directed  to  summon  Jean  Gervais  to  come  to  me 
from  his  house;  then  she  went  on  to  state  briefly 
that  the  fishermen  were  taking  advantage  of  their 
present  enforced  leisure  in  mending  nets.  The 
recollection  of  the  German  flashing  through  my 
mind,  I  inquired  if  she  had  any  information  of  him. 
It  appeared  that  he  was  staying  at  her  inn,  a  gentle- 
man by  the  name  of  Von  Hussman,  German  truly, 
as  I  had  said,  but  able  to  speak  French  of  a  sort  — 
not  the  French  of  Lavouche  —  who  had  come  to  a 
quiet  place  by  the  sea  to  recover  his  health  from  a 
stroke.  I  hid  a  smile;  my  pursuer  was  not,  it 
seemed,  without  a  certain  sense  of  humor. 

So  he  was  still  here!    Well,  the  storm  may  have 


50  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

prevented  his  departure,  but  his  presence  looked  to 
me  more  like  the  result  of  a  steady  purpose;  I  would 
keep  an  eye  out  for  friend  Von  Hussman.  Here  in 
the  village  however  he  was  under  a  handicap.  I 
was  among  friends,  a  word  from  me  would  bring 
them  crowding  to  my  assistance ;  on  the  other  hand, 
he  was  alone  and  among  people  who  had  a  natural 
antipathy  for  his  race.  His  courage  could  not  be 
questioned,  I  had  to  admit,  and  the  more  I  studied 
his  presence  the  more  it  loomed  as  a  perplexing 
problem. 

In  the  midst  of  my  reflections  Jean  Gervais  en- 
tered, now  a  tall,  bronzed,  smiling  fellow,  far  dif- 
ferent from  the  stripling  to  whom  I  bade  good-bye 
years  before.  The  raindrops  which  dropped  from 
his  sou'wester  he  shook  off  with  a  jerk  of  his  head ; 
then  we  gazed  at  one  another,  endeavoring  each  to 
recall  the  boy  he  had  known,  marking  the  changes 
wrought  by  time;  finally  we  put  forth  our  hands 
and  gripped  them  in  a  clasp  that  spoke  undiminished 
affection. 

"  And  it  is  you  ? "  he  said,  eyes  sparkling. 
"  You  've  come  back  to  Lavouche  at  last." 

"And  you?" 

"  Behold !  "  He  opened  his  arms  wide,  smiling. 
Unlike  most  of  the  men  of  the  village,  he  wore 
neither  beard  nor  moustache;  labor  at  oar,  at  sail, 
at  nets  had  thickened  his  body  and  broadened  his 
chest;  life  on  the  water  and  in  the  sharp  salt  air 
had  given  him  vigorous  health.  And  now,  radiant, 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  LAVOUCHE  51 

delighted,  full  of  the  happiness  of  seeing  me  once 
more,  he  leaned  elbows  on  the  table  and  gazed  into 
my  eyes  while  we  talked. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  I  said,  "  I  want  a  cat- 
boat,  Jean.  Can  you  get  me  one  ?  " 

"  You  shall  have  mine  —  only  —  "  He  hesitated. 
"  Sometimes  I  would  like  to  use  it  of  a  Sunday. 
When  I  'm  not  out  with  the  nets  and  when  the 
weather  is  fair,  I  sail  with  Marie  Deschenel.  We  're 
to  be  married  in  November." 

I  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  Any  time  — 
any  time  you  wish  it.  It  will  always  be  on  the 
beach  before  the  Lodge.  My  felicitations  to  you 
on  your  future  joy.  I  '11  come  and  dance  at  the 
wedding." 

"  You  are  not  married,  Charles  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Not  so  lucky." 

A  flash  of  mischief  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  Ma'm'selle  Moore  has  had  me  take  her  sailing 
already  since  she  arrived;  Ma'm'selle  loves  the 
water.  Now  that  you  have  the  boat  — "  He 
stopped,  smiling  the  suggestion. 

"  I  see ;  then  you  'd  have  no  one  to  look  after 
except  Marie.  Cunning  Jean !  " 

"  Oh,  no.  But  you  would  find  Ma'm'selle  charm- 
ing. There  's  a  young  man  there  "  —  he  made  a 
gesture  towards  the  opposite  side  of  the  island  where 
stood  Moore  House  —  "  from  whom  she  might  be 
pleased  to  be  relieved.  He  is  — "  Stopping 
abruptly,  he  knit  his  brows  and  sank  into  thought, 


52  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

oblivious  of  my  presence.  Thus  he  remained  until 
all  at  once  he  brushed  his  hand  across  his  forehead 
as  if  to  dispel  the  subject  which  engaged  him,  turned 
to  the  inn- woman,  and  ordered  a  measure  of  wine. 
"  Forgive  me,"  he  apologized,  but  made  no  further 
reference  to  his  abstraction.  From  now  on  his 
talk  did  not  move  so  cheerfully;  a  moody  shadow 
still  lay  upon  his  countenance. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  an  altercation  broke 
forth  among  the  men  who  sat  at  the  table  in  the 
rear  of  the  room.  Voices  were  raised  in  acrimo- 
nious argument.  All  but  two  of  the  drinkers  fell 
silent,  but  these  spat  angry  words  at  each  other  in 
rapid  French.  Owing  to  the  dim  light  which  lay  in 
that  part  of  the  inn,  I  could  not  distinguish  their 
faces;  one  man  was  large  and  at  every  utterance 
thumped  the  board  with  his  fist,  the  other  was  small 
and  crouched  down  in  his  seat  until  his  head  was 
drawn  into  his  shoulders,  but  all  the  while  he  snapped 
retorts  incessantly. 

'  Those  rotten  fish  from  Marseilles ! "  growled 
Jean,  and  turned  back  to  me. 

At  that  instant  the  little  man  shot  some  word  that 
stung  the  other  to  fury.  The  latter  leaned  across 
the  table,  striking  at  the  speaker  with  his  open  palm ; 
but  the  smaller  with  unexpected  agility  leaped  from 
his  seat  and  out  of  the  way  of  the  slap,  then  he 
darted  forward,  rapped  and  overturned  his  assail- 
ant's goblet  of  wine,  whirled  about,  and  ran  for  the 
door.  A  curse  escaped  the  lips  of  the  larger.  He 


AN    AFTERNOON    AT    LAVOUCHE    53 

stared  down  at  the  spilled  wine  for  an  instant  with 
fallen  jaw.  Then  he  seized  the  heavy  glass  and 
hurled  it  after  the  fleeing  figure ;  but  rage  made  his 
aim  poor,  it  went  wild,  sailing  to  one  side  and  smash- 
ing against  the  wall  over  our  heads.  The  little  fel- 
low jerked  open  the  door  and  vanished,  while  a 
sprinkle  of  glass  showered  Jean  and  me. 

"  Here  you,  Pilon !  "  my  companion  cried,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet. 

The  thrower  came  forward,  after  quenching  his 
thirst  uninvited  from  a  companion's  goblet.  Appar- 
ently the  wine  appeased  his  anger,  for  he  wiped  his 
moustache  and  said  in  a  boisterous  voice,  "  Hello, 
Jean.  Nearly  hooked  you  instead  of  that  little 
cat." 

"  Monsieur,  you  must  pay,"  the  inn-woman  inter- 
jected. 

"  Why  not,  madame  ?  "  With  a  lordly  air  he 
tossed  a  coin  into  her  lap.  "Who  is  this,  Jean?" 
and  he  indicated  me. 

"  A  friend,"  Jean  replied  briefly. 

Placing  one  hand  on  his  hip  and  stroking  his 
moustache  with  the  other,  the  roisterer  stared  me 
over.  Not  so  tall  as  Jean  or  I,  yet  he  had  a  thick 
barrel  of  a  body;  his  eyes  were  full  and  protruding, 
his  head  large;  and  he  comported  himself  in  that 
manner  which  is  assumed  by  certain  insolent  char- 
acters in  French  towns,  a  mixture  of  assured 
nonchalance,  abruptness,  egotism,  and  ferocious 
swagger. 


54  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

"I  —  I  am  Pilon,"  said  he,  and  his  hand  twirled 
his  moustache  with  a  flourish. 

I  glanced  at  him  indifferently.  The  information 
which  he  contributed  did  not  interest  me  in  the 
slightest,  so  I  turned  to  Jean.  Under  the  impression 
no  doubt  that  I  was  a  visitor  from  some  neighboring 
fishing-village  because  I  wore  oilskins  and  anxious 
to  stamp  his  importance  upon  my  mind,  he  repeated 
his  statement. 

"  Some  people  are  very  tiresome,"  I  remarked  to 
Jean,  who  was  scowling. 
"  Yes." 

"  And  annoying." 
"  Exceedingly." 

"  Ha ! "  burst  in  an  angry  exclamation  from  the 
man's  lips. 

I  turned  about  in  my  seat. 

"  What  is  it  you  want?  "  I  asked.  "  Your  apology 
for  the  broken  glass  is  accepted,  therefore  nothing 
remained  to  be  added.  You  are  interrupting  us." 

At  this  deflection  of  the  talk  he  was  at  a  loss 
what  to  answer.  His  eyes  moved  from  me  to  Jean 
and  from  Jean  back  to  me,  his  mind  vainly  seek- 
ing a  point  to  resent.  That  he  had  been  drinking 
freely  was  evident ;  his  face  was  darkly  flushed,  the 
veins  were  distended  upon  his  forehead,  his  cap 
was  awry,  and  the  odor  of  brandy  was  strong  upon 
his  breath.  Past  him  and  still  sitting  at  the  table, 
I  perceived  the  other  four  men  looking  at  us  and 
attentively  listening. 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  LAVOUCHE  55 

"I  am  Pilon,"  he  at  last  stammered;  "I  invite 
you  to  drink  at  our  table." 

"  Our  wine  is  before  our  hands,"  said  Jean. 

"  Let  your  friend  answer,"  he  growled. 

"  As  Jean  says,  our  wine  is  here." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  fastidious  —  you  ?  "  he  sneered. 

I  kept  silent,  though  a  retort  trembled  on  the  tip 
of  my  tongue. 

"Or  a  coward?" 

"  Pilon,  to  your  table  at  once !  " 

It  was  the  inn-woman  who  commanded,  and  her 
mandate  was  not  to  be  ignored.  He  glanced  at 
her,  hesitated,  then  cocking  his  cap  rejoined  his 
companions,  where  he  broke  out  into  laughter. 

"  He 's  a  rogue,"  Jean  said,  lighting  his  pipe. 
"  Because  he  comes  from  France,  he  and  two  others, 
the  little  one  who  flew  out  the  door  from  his  glass, 
and  that  fat  keg- fellow  at  his  elbow,  Descarte  — 
the  others  are  young  men  here  in  Lavouche,  who 
think  it  fine  to  swim  in  such  company  —  because  he 
has  traveled,  Pilon  thinks  he  will  show  us  what  a 
terrible  fellow  he  is.  Well,  he  leaves  me  alone. 
Sometimes  he  and  his  mates  fish,  sometimes  not. 
The  three  live  in  the  empty  house  next  to  this,  the 
house  with  the  iron  nails  in  the  door,  where  Piet' 
Mosette  lived  formerly."  Awhile  he  sat  glowering, 
then  asked,  "  What  should  one  of  Ma'm'selle  Betty's 
guests  have  to  do  with  such  as  Pilon?  For  I  saw 
one  of  them  go  into  the  door  with  that  braggart 
yonder."  Again  a  pause,  and  this  time  Jean's  look 


56  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

brooded  on  the  table.  "  Well,  for  that  matter,  what 
should  one  of  them  have  to  do  with  my  sister  —  he 
who  has  been  but  ten  days  here  ?  " 

"Your  sister?"  I  said. 

"My  half-sister,  to  speak  accurately.  Margot, 
you  remember  her?  " 

I  nodded.  When  last  I  had  seen  the  girl,  she  was 
a  dark,  slim,  vagabondish  thing,  whose  black  eyes 
gleamed  from  through  her  unbound  hair.  Nine 
years  old  at  that  time,  she  must  be  twenty-three  or 
four  now.  It  was  strange  she  was  not  married, 
for  the  daughters  of  the  fishermen  wed  young; 
yet  she  had  always  been  a  strange  girl,  given  to 
solitary  musings  even  when  small,  or  to  wandering 
about  the  island  or  the  coast  rocks  in  elfin  loneliness. 
She  was  a  child  by  Jean's  father's  second  wife,  a 
woman  of  St.  John  who  had  died  two  or  three  years 
after  abiding  in  Lavouche  and  who  was  of  another 
and  darker  French  strain  than  the  fishermen,  who 
were  of  light  complexion  and  not  black.  This  child 
had  followed  her  mother's  breed  of  the  race  in  looks 
and  temperament. 

"It's  peculiar,"  I  said. 

"  What  should  he  —  a  secretary,  he  says  he  is,  to 
the  other  gentleman  at  Moore  House  —  want  with 
a  daughter  of  Lavouche?  He  is  not  of  us." 

"  Perhaps  he  's  studying  local  character,"  I  sug- 
gested. 

But  Jean  shook  his  head  moodily,  and  as  our  wine 
was  finished  and  supper-time  near  we  rose  to  go. 


AN  AFTERNOON  AT  LAVOUCHE  57 

But  Pilon  was  not  yet  satisfied  with  his  share  of  the 
afternoon. 

"  My  fine  young  rooster,  I  '11  have  to  cut  your 
comb  some  day,"  he  shouted  across  the  room. 
"You  — the  blood  will  drip." 

"  Come  along,"  said  Jean,  "  never  mind  him,  he  '11 
forget  all  about  it."  And  when  we  stood  in  the 
street,  "  It  will  be  fine  to-morrow,  but  nevertheless 
bad  fishing  for  one  more  day.  I  '11  bring  the  boat 
over  early  in  the  morning." 

At  the  end  of  the  street  I  perceived  some  fifty 
yards  ahead  a  woman's  figure  preceding  me,  clutch- 
ing a  shawl  about  her  head  and  holding  her  skirts, 
which  whipped  in  the  wind.  She  pursued  her  way 
where  the  cliff  of  rock  fell  into  a  gentle  grassy  slope. 
Only  a  casual  interest  was  excited  in  my  mind  by 
her  appearance;  she  might  be  bent  on  any  one  of 
a  dozen  errands  that  would  engage  any  wife  of 
Lavouche;  but  my  look  idly  followed  her,  as  it 
will  the  only  animate  object  in  a  landscape.  She 
turned  and  went  up  to  a  spot  not  far  from  old 
Gaspard  Levesque's  garden  patch,  disappearing  be- 
hind a  clump  of  bushes.  I  continued  along  the 
beach,  and  it  was  only  by  chance  as  I  drew  even 
with  where  she  had  diverged  that  I  glanced  in  that 
direction.  There,  possibly  a  dozen  boat-lengths 
away,  she  stood  under  a  tree  talking  with  a  man. 
More  than  that  he  wore  a  rain-coat  with  collar 
turned  up  and  a  cap  I  made  out  nothing  of  him. 
As  it  happened,  at  the  same  instant  I  gazed  at  them 


58  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

they  turned  their  faces  towards  me.  I  caught  the 
sound  of  a  low  exclamation.  The  man  reached 
forth  a  hand  and  drew  the  woman  behind  the  tree 
till  both  were  hidden. 

"  Now  that 's  curious  for  Lavouche,"  I  thought. 
"  On  a  first  guess,  I  'd  say  the  one  was  Jean's  sister 
and  the  other  the  secretary." 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE   ENVOY   OF  A   GOVERNMENT 

At  two  o'clock  the  next  afternoon  I  stepped 
aboard  the  cat-boat  which  Jean  had  brought  over 
to  my  wharf  and  beat  my  way  up  against  the  wind 
close  under  the  lee  of  the  eastern  shore.  The  gale 
of  the  previous  day  had  diminished  to  a  fresh  breeze, 
and  the  broad  Atlantic,  still  heaving  in  immense 
swells  that  rolled  from  the  northeast,  sparkled  with 
a  thousand  gems  beneath  the  brilliant  sun.  The 
keen  delight  of  it  all,  the  flash  of  water,  the  leap  of 
spray,  the  slap  of  wave  against  bow,  the  keen,  pun- 
gent scent  of  salt,  and  the  song  in  the  sail  stirred 
my  pulses  and  kept  them  beating  joyously.  There  is 
something  in  the  aspect  of  the  broad  sea,  spreading 
apparently  without  end,  moving  without  rest,  that 
speaks  a  challenge.  Unconsciously  we  animate  it 
with  a  gigantic  spirit;  we  endow  it  with  human 
qualities  that  contain  something  more,  something 
vaster,  something  beyond  our  perception;  and  this 
very  mystery  calls  to  men's  souls.  This  I  felt  and 
accepted  without  analysis;  hand  on  tiller  and  me- 
chanically directing  the  boat  up  the  shore  until  I 
should  reach  the  open  bay  beyond,  I  drank  my  fill 


60  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

of  all  the  glorious  scene  and  lost  myself  in  a  sen- 
sation of  physical  buoyancy. 

But  a  hail,  a  feminine  hail,  interrupted  my  ecstasy  ; 
I  returned  to  matters  at  hand.  Looking  up,  I  per- 
ceived fifty  yards  before  me  a  small  wharf  and 
higher  up,  at  the  top  of  the  gently  sloping,  open 
lawn,  Moore  House,  with  portico  columns  white 
against  the  green  background  of  wood.  On  the 
wharf  were  three  figures,  those  of  a  man  and  two 
girls;  one  of  the  latter  persons  waved  a  hand- 
kerchief. 

"  Jean,  Jean,  take  me  with  you,"  she  called. 

For  the  fraction  of  a  minute  I  hesitated,  then 
shifted  the  tiller  a  trifle  so  as  to  bring  the  cat-boat 
alongside  the  wharf.  Betty  had  recognized  Jean's 
craft;  she  imagined  that  she  recognized  Jean  and 
therein  Betty  would  presently  experience  a  shock, 
of  what  nature  I  did  not  undertake  to  prophesy. 
Carefully  keeping  the  slatting  sail  between  me 
and  the  little  party,  I  guided  my  vessel  gently  to 
its  mooring. 

The  trio  were  evidently  torn  by  discussion  of  the 
projected  excursion  of  the  signaler. 

'  You  don't  want  to  go  out  with  that  fellow  again, 
surely,"  the  man  exclaimed. 

"  Exactly  what  I  do."    Betty's  voice  was  firm. 

"Oh,  stay  ashore;  you'll  be  drenched,"  urged 
the  second  girl. 

"What's  a  little  drenching!"  scorned  Betty. 
"  Better  come  too."  She  put  her  foot  on  the  gun- 


THE   ENVOY   OF   A   GOVERNMENT     61 

wale  at  the  instant  of  the  boat's  rise  on  the  swell 
and  sprang  lightly  in.  "  Here  I  am,  Jean." 

"  Well,  I  —  "  her  male  companion  began. 

"  Never  mind,  Mr.  Davis,  I  see  that  you  too  are 
afraid  of  a  wetting.  Push  off,  Jean." 

The  white  duck  skirt,  one  shoulder,  and  the  back 
of  Betty's  golden  head  were  visible  to  me,  but  the 
mast  cut  off  the  whole  vision  of  her.  Flinging  one 
arm  over  the  tiller,  I  lighted  my  pipe  and  settled 
back,  awaiting  developments. 

"I'm  glad  to  get  away  from  them,  Jean,  just 
at  this  minute,"  she  stated  after  a  time ;  "  they  ex- 
asperate me,  they  're  so  afraid  of  a  drop  of  water." 

She  continued  to  look  straight  ahead,  talking  over 
her  shoulder.  For  my  part,  I  remained  silent;  ap- 
parently she  expected  no  reply,  as  she  continued  to 
maintain  her  position  in  abstracted  contemplation. 
When  at  last  we  outreached  the  island,  she  lifted 
her  head  to  the  breeze  and  cried: 

"  Point  her  up  closer  and  get  out  to  sea."  Then 
added  flippantly,  "  Stick  her  nose  into  it." 

"  Oui,  ma'm'selle,"  said  I  meekly. 

"Closer!" 

Obedient,  as  a  sailor  ever  should  be  under  cap- 
tain's command,  I  pointed  the  boat  into  the  eye  of 
the  wind.  The  sail  swung  farther  and  farther  in  and 
stood  stiff  as  a  sheet  of  iron.  Slap!  A  dash  of 
spray  leaped  high  over  the  bow  and  sprinkled  us 
briskly. 

"Jean!" 


62  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

"Oui,  ma'm'selle?" 

"  It 's  glorious  —  but  I  'm  coming  back." 

I  paid  off  the  sheet  and  eased  up  on  the  tiller, 
for  I  expected  a  gust  from  another  direction  when 
she  should  pass  round  the  mast  and  see  me ;  to  point 
up  in  two  winds  at  once  was  beyond  my  nerve. 
Placing  her  hand  on  the  mast  and  carefully  watch- 
ing her  footing,  she  moved  round  the  stick,  balanced, 
and  dropped  to  the  seat  just  in  front  of  me  without 
a  glance  at  her  crew  of  one. 

"  I  am  here,"  she  stated  with  assured  confidence. 

"  Ah,  ma'm'selle." 

"  Now  point  her  —  " 

Whirling  about,  she  cut  off  the  sentence  as  with 
a  knife.  She  stared  with  round  blue  eyes  and  parted 
lips.  She  was  the  same  lovely  Betty,  lovelier  in 
fact,  with  stray  locks  blowing  about  her  face,  her 
figure  trim  in  white  duck  as  a  sailor  girl's  should 
be,  and  cheeks  all  aglow  with  color. 

"  I  was  about  to  propose  that  we  tack  out  to  sea," 
said  I. 

"  Charles  —  or  his  ghost !  What  are  you  doing 
here?" 

"  Is  that  intended  as  a  verdict  of  disapprobation  ?  " 
I  questioned. 

"  I  thought  you  were  in  Texas." 

"  Even  you,  Betty,  may  err." 

She  gazed  at  me  speculatively,  as  she  would  have 
done  at  a  seal  or  a  porpoise,  had  she  suddenly  dis- 
covered that  such  sat  in  the  stern  steering  the  craft. 


THE  ENVOY  OF  A  GOVERNMENT    63 

"  And  you  are  here." 

"  That  is  my  present  conviction." 

"  You  were  a  cowboy." 

"  Well,  now  I  'm  a  sailor." 

"  And  came  to  Lavouche." 

"  To  Lavouche." 

"  Ah." 

"  Exactly." 

And  so  our  conversation  simmered  down  to  a 
mutual  gaze.  But  Betty's,  I  presently  perceived, 
while  dwelling  on  me  passed  through  and  beyond 
and  traversed  a  wider  field.  What  her  reflections 
might  be  I  could  only  conjecture:  she  sat  rapt,  her 
lips  parted,  her  eyes  fixed,  her  person  immovable. 
I  watched  her  awhile,  then  gave  my  attention  to 
examining  sail  and  sea.  When  I  returned  to  con- 
sideration of  her  countenance,  she  was  still  trans- 
fixed. 

All  at  once  she  burst  out :  "  How  did  you  come 
here?" 

"  How  should  I  ?    By  boat  and  train." 

"  No,  no,  I  mean  —  What  did  Andrew  write 
you?  I  demand  to  know." 

"Andrew?  About  things  in  general.  Weather 
—  the  house  —  the  mice  in  the  closet  —  this  and 
that." 

"  Did  he  write  about  me  ?  Did  he  dare  do 
that?" 

"  Andrew  never  wrote  about  anything  one-thou- 
sandth part  so  interesting.  Andrew  is  faithfully 


64  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

careful  never  to  write  about  anything  that  does 
not  concern  that  old  and  honored  family,  the 
Woodworths." 

She  was  but  half  assured.  "And  never  men- 
tioned my  name  ?  " 

"  I  can  state  positively  that  your  name  never  ap- 
peared in  any  letter." 

'  Then  you  did  not  follow  me  to  Lavouche  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  even  know  that  you  were  back  from 
Venezuela  until  I  reached  New  York,  and  at  that 
time  my  arrangements  were  completed  to  come  here. 
You  may  rest  easy,  I  did  not  follow  you." 

For  the  space  of  a  minute  she  remained  silent, 
while  the  boat  slipped  over  the  rise  of  a  swell  and 
glided  down  into  the  hollow  beyond. 

'You  might  have  been  gallant  enough  to  say 
that  you  did,"  she  remarked  shortly. 

"  Gallant  enough !  Do  you  suggest  that  you 
would  have  been  pleased  to  have  me  follow  you?" 

"Never!" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Nothing  of  importance.  Kindly  take  me  back 
now." 

Her  look  was  turned  away.  Leaning  one  elbow 
on  her  knee  and  resting  her  chin  in  the  cup  of  her 
hand,  she  gazed  at  the  water  and  apparently  ignored 
my  presence.  Of  all  enigmatical,  vexing  persons! 
Without  a  word,  but  with  resentment  in  my  heart, 
I  swung  the  boat  around  and  let  it  sweep  before  the 
wind  straight  for  the  island.  She  continued  to  con- 


THE   ENVOY  OF  A  GOVERNMENT    65 

centrate  her  look  upon  the  water,  and  I,  equally 
silent,  tended  tiller  and  sail. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  as  she  stepped  upon  the 
wharf.  "  I  've  enjoyed  the  hour." 

"  I  shall  treasure  that  expression  of  enthusiasm," 
I  responded  dryly. 

"  Sometime  again  perhaps  —  in  the  future  —  " 

"  Yes,  the  dim  and  distant  future." 

"  And  I  must  go.  I  am  late.  I  promised  to  play 
e carte  with  Senor  Del  Hervalle." 

At  that  name  I  nearly  upset  the  boat,  springing 
to  my  feet. 

"  Who !  "  I  demanded  in  excitement. 

"  Did  you  learn  to  shout  in  that  fashion  at  the 
top  of  your  lungs  while  in  Texas?  I  said  Senor 
Del  Hervalle,  one  of  our  guests." 

I  looked  past  her  up  the  slope,  where  I  observed 
several  persons  moving  about  the  lawn.  The  news 
dumfounded  me.  Del  Hervalle  —  D'Urville  here, 
a  guest  of  the  Moores! 

"  That  infamous  scoundrel !  "  I  burst  out. 

"  You  're  speaking  of  one  of  our  company,  sir." 

"Of  course  I  am  —  if  it 's  Del  Hervalle  of 
Venezuela." 

"  One  of  our  friends,"  she  continued  haughtily. 

"  He  ought  to  be  hung,  the  blackguard !  " 

Her  head  was  very  straight,  her  chin  high. 

"  Our  acquaintance  is  barely  renewed  when  you 
cast  reflections  on  a  man  you  know  nothing  of,  hold- 
ing an  honored  position  and  our  guest.  Your  ex- 


66  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

perience  in  Texas  seems  to  have  impaired  your  cour- 
tesy—I will  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  manners." 
After  a  pause  she  went  on.    "  And  therefore  it  had 
best  not  be  renewed  at  all." 
"  As  you  please." 

1  And  I  am  generally  occupied  with  my  visitors." 
"  I  expect  to  be  pretty  busy  myself." 
"  And  so  —  "    She  looked  at  me  coldly. 
"  Exactly.    One  favor,  if  you  please.    Be  so  kind 
as  not  to  mention  my  name  to  Senor  Del  Hervalle." 
"  I  imagine  he  '11  hardly  be  interested." 
"  Ah !  there  may  be  two  opinions  about  that." 
"You  know  him?" 

"It's  immaterial  —  a  casual  acquaintance  once, 
I  may  say.    You  've  not  yet  granted  my  request." 
"  Certainly  I  '11  not  mention  you." 
'Then    we    can    part    and    meet    hereafter    as 
strangers,"  I  said,  pushing  the  boat  away.     "So 
that  is  settled." 

A  visible  struggle  was  going  on  in  her  mind,  I 
perceived,  watching  her  out  of  the  corner  of  my 
eye.  She  took  a  step,  then  halted,  to  face  about 
again.  Perplexity,  curiosity,  doubt  sat  on  her  brow  ; 
her  blue  eyes  dwelt  on  me,  questioning.  At  last  she 
succumbed. 

"  When  did  you  meet  him  ?  " 
I  smiled  and  shook  out  the  sheet  to  the  breeze. 
"At  the  muzzle  of  a  revolver  —  informally,  as  one 
would  say." 

With  that  reply  to  prick  her  wonder,  I  scudded 


THE   ENVOY   OF  A   GOVERNMENT    67 

away.  Once  I  cast  a  glance  over  my  shoulder  and 
observed  her  still  standing  on  the  wharf  staring 
after  me. 

It  appeared  presently  that  others  had  been  inter- 
ested in  my  sailing.  When  I  beached  the  cat-boat 
and  mounted  the  path  to  the  Lodge,  I  was  met  by 
Andrew  standing  in  the  door.  A  visitor  had  called 
during  my  absence,  waited  awhile,  and  finally  taken 
his  departure;  from  the  description  which  Andrew 
drew  it  could  have  been  no  one  but  my  German. 
He  had  inquired  for  me,  sat  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  upon  the  veranda  where  he  enjoyed  the  sea 
breeze  and  the  prospect,  then  expressed  a  desire  to 
see  the  interior  of  the  dwelling,  which  he  had  highly 
praised.  A  gleam  of  suspicion  flashed  through  me. 
I  rushed  into  the  house  and  unlocked  and  jerked 
open  the  drawer  where  I  had  placed  the  map.  Thank 
Heaven,  it  was  still  safe! 

"  Andrew,  that  man  's  an  enemy,"  I  announced. 

"  Can  it  be,  Master  Charles !  He  was  so  polite 
and  so  interested." 

"  And  wanted  to  know  how  the  rooms  were  ar- 
ranged, I  presume,  and  the  doors  and  windows  ?  " 

"No,  Master  Charles." 

"  Well,  no  doubt  he  used  his  eyes.  He  wants  this 
paper,  Andrew.  It  has  a  particular  value,  and  must 
be  hid  where  no  one  can  lay  finger  on  it." 

Andrew  folded  his  hands  across  his  stomach  and 
considered. 

"  There  is  the  bottom  of  the  desk,"  he  suggested ; 


68  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

but  I  shook  my  head.  "  Or  the  chimney  seat,  where 
your  father  sometimes  kept  books."  This  was  no 
better.  "  Or  the  —  "  He  paused. 

"  We  have  n't  a  secret  panel  or  hole  under  the 
hearth-stone,  such  as  novels  always  provide  in  their 
houses,  worse  luck." 

"No,  Master  Charles,  but  I  was  going  to  sug- 
gest —  " 

"Lead  on." 

'  To  suggest  that  if  the  paper  was  concealed  in 
some  good  place  which  the  man  would  not  naturally 
suspect  he  would  not  find  it." 

"  Andrew,  you  have  uttered  a  remarkable  state- 
ment," I  rejoined  with  gentle  irony. 

A  glow  came  into  his  eyes;  he  began  to  rub  his 
hands  softly  together. 

'Your  father  used  to  say  that  I  sometimes 
thought  of  things  no  one  else  in  the  world  ever 
did." 

"  Father  was  an  observant  man." 

"  So  he  was,  extraordinarily  observant,  and  there- 
fore I  might  think  of  a  place  no  one  else  would 
ever  consider.  And  it  has  come  to  my  mind,  Master 
Charles,  that  seeing  this  man  is  your  enemy  and 
anxious  to  secure  the  paper,  he  might  never  think 
to  look  for  it  in  the  bottom  of  the  silver  tankard 
which  holds  the  sherry  wine.  Your  father  once 
had  some  money  here  when  a  number  of  rough 
fellows  stopped  at  Lavouche.  I  hid  it  there  for  him. 
He  said  my  suggestion  was  a  good  one  and  that 


THE   ENVOY  OF  A   GOVERNMENT    69 

the  money  would  undoubtedly  be  preserved  if 
kept  in  spirits."  He  beamed  upon  me  immensely 
satisfied. 

"  The  map  would  be  soaked  and  spoiled." 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  will  make  a  rubber  cover  to  encase 
it  and  then  put  it  in  a  flat  silver  dish  with  a  water- 
tight screw  lid  which  is  in  the  dish  closet.  This  will 
fit  into  the  bottom  with  a  little  wedge,  and  when  the 
tankard  is  full  of  wine  no  one  will  imagine  it  there. 
I  shall  have  it  ready  by  to-morrow." 

I  leaned  back  in  my  chair. 

"Andrew,"  said  I,  "you  have  the  making  of  a 
great  criminal  in  you." 

"  Your  father  sometimes  complimented  me  on  my 
ideas.  I  'm  so  much  about  the  house  that  I  observe 
things  that  others  are  not  likely  to  see.  I  will  make 
the  rubber  sack  this  evening." 

"  Very  well,  I  leave  that  part  to  you,  and  there  's 
no  immediate  danger  in  my  carrying  it  until  you 
have  your  little  cache  ready."  And  I  slipped  it  into 
an  inner  pocket. 

Complacently  pleased  that  I  had  adopted  his  plan, 
he  brought  the  screw-top  dish  and  the  tankard  to 
demonstrate  his  ingenious  place  of  secretion.  It  was 
quite  as  he  said;  the  dish  fitted  neatly  into  the 
depth  of  the  tankard  and,  indeed,  when  the  latter 
should  be  full  of  wine  would,  unless  careful  ex- 
amination were  made,  be  mistaken  for  the  bottom 
of  the  receptacle.  A  thorough  thief  would  he  be 
who  would  discover  the  map  in  such  a  place. 


70  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

That  evening  I  ate  my  supper  in  silence,  for  there 
was  more  than  enough  fresh  matter  in  the  occur- 
rences of  the  day  to  give  my  mind  occupation.  My 
present  status,  or  rather  lack  of  it,  in  Elizabeth 
Moore's  regard  was  for  one  thing  sufficiently  en- 
grossing. She  had  administered  a  dismissal  that 
afternoon  which  should  according  to  the  usual  con- 
ventions mark  the  end  of  our  acquaintance  and  my 
hopes;  this  I  revolved  moodily,  refusing  to  accept 
the  decree.  Suddenly  I  straightened  up.  She  ex- 
pected me  to  fade  out  of  her  life  in  silence  and 
with  averted  head  like  a  melancholy  wraith;  well, 
I  should  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  not  if  I  knew  my- 
self. There  should  be  no  withdrawal  on  my  part, 
to  cherish  in  solitude  a  sweet  and  lonely  memory; 
on  the  contrary,  I  should  follow  Jack  Maitland's 
advice  and  "  get  busy."  A  sense  of  calm  confidence 
on  a  sudden  pervaded  me;  here  was  a  chance  to 
emulate  the  Roman  warriors  who  stole  Sabine  wives, 
or  the  noble  redman  who  went  forth  and  brought 
him  a  helpmeet  into  his  lodge.  Not  quite  that,  of 
course,  but  if  Texas  had  rubbed  the  grain  off  my 
manners  I  would  at  least  convince  Miss  Betty  that 
there  was  iron  under  the  velvet. 

Pushing  back  my  chair,  I  filled  my  pipe  and 
passed  into  the  room  where  the  fire  was  blazing  on 
the  hearth.  One  question  determined,  I  was  im- 
mediately confronted  by  another.  What  stand 
should  I  take  with  D'Urville?  The  difficulty  of  the 
situation  was  apparent,  while  the  obstacles  in  the 


THE  ENVOY   OF  A   GOVERNMENT    71 

way  of  laying  the  rogue  by  the  heels  were  numerous ; 
for  it  was  no  longer  a  humble  mine-mechanic  with 
whom  I  had  to  deal,  but  a  man  of  rank  clothed  with 
the  protection  of  a  foreign  nation,  an  envoy  with 
privileges  and  honors,  in  reality  a  guest  of  my  own 
government.  In  the  end  I  might  secure  his  recall, 
but  nothing  more.  D'Urville  was  a  dangerous  man. 
Once  he  learned  that  my  purpose  was  to  disclose  his 
former  roguery,  he  would  without  question  make  a 
counter-stroke  of  some  kind.  It  would  be  necessary 
to  go  with  cautious  steps  and  prepared  hands  when 
I  went  to  his  unmasking.  He  was  wise  in  years, 
while  I  was  young ;  he  had  experience  in  craft,  prac- 
tice in  dissembling,  skill  in  calculating  narrow 
chances,  coolness  in  danger,  all  the  weapons  with 
which  to  wage  a  concealed  and  relentless  warfare 
where  mercy  is  not  shown  and  quarter  never  given, 
while  against  these  I  had  only  youth  to  pit,  courage, 
and  knowledge  of  his  desperate  character  and  evil 
past.  It  was  a  prospect  to  make  one  draw  back,  yet 
the  contest  lured  me  on. 

As  a  preliminary  I  decided  upon  a  survey  of 
Moore  House  —  a  flicker  of  curiosity  too  was  in 
the  decision,  a  desire  to  see  again  the  face  of  this 
man  who  had  been  an  ancient  enemy  and  with  whom 
I  was  about  to  renew  hostilities. 

At  about  nine  o'clock,  accordingly,  I  buttoned  my 
coat  snugly,  took  a  Scotch  cap  for  my  head,  and 
set  out. 

I  made  my  way  by  a  path  cut  through  the  wood, 


72  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

which  led  to  the  road  that  ran  from  Moore  House 
to  the  village.  A  full  moon  shone  in  the  sky,  whose 
beams  penetrated  through  the  wide-spreading  boughs 
of  the  trees  in  lances  and  arrows  of  mellow  light. 
All  was  quiet  as  I  strode  along  the  soundless  carpet 
of  pine  needles;  an  odor  of  balsam  filled  the  air, 
the  heavy  shadows  laid  themselves  here  like  black 
cloaks,  and  only  the  steady  insistent  music  of  the 
waves  rolling  upon  the  beach  beat  in  my  ears.  Com- 
ing into  the  road,  which  was  scarcely  better  lighted, 
I  turned  to  the  right  and  continued  my  advance. 
Moore  House  reposed,  I  remembered,  not  more 
than  a  hundred  yards  from  the  junction  of  path  and 
road,  and  presently  I  saw  its  gleaming  lights. 

About  the  house  a  considerable  space  had  been 
cleared  years  before,  but  certain  natural  features 
had  been  preserved  —  clumps  of  trees,  bushes,  small 
copses.  I  halted  in  the  shadow  of  a  huge  tree  that 
stood  in  the  fringe  where  the  road  debouched  and 
examined  the  structure  of  the  dwelling.  The  south 
side  faced  me,  the  servants'  entrance  was  north, 
while  the  columned  front  opened  eastward  and  over- 
looked the  ocean.  In  the  wide  spaces  of  the  lawn 
the  moon  shone  full  and  clear,  marking  every  in- 
equality, every  upstanding  stick  and  stalk.  No  one 
was  in  sight,  so  I  stepped  forward  and  by  taking 
advantage  of  cover  worked  my  way  around  in  front 
and  in  close  to  the  large  veranda.  The  wide  door 
stood  open,  through  which  lamplight  fell  from  the 
hall,  but  that  was  all  I  noted. 


THE   ENVOY  OF  A   GOVERNMENT    73 

Presently  came  the  sound  of  voices,  and  there 
stepped  through  the  door  Elizabeth,  the  other  girl, 
and  Mr.  Moore.  The  latter's  slender  figure  moved 
between  those  of  his  companions,  and  his  thin, 
smooth-shaven  face  appeared  for  an  instant  in  the 
light;  an  indulgent  smile  was  on  his  lips,  and  he 
was  speaking  in  the  perfectly  modulated  tones  I 
knew  so  well.  My  position  was  not  particularly 
enviable;  if  I  retreated  they  would  no  doubt  per- 
ceive my  moving  figure  in  the  moonlight,  and  if  I 
remained  they  might  come  straight  upon  my  bush 
to  discover  me  crouching  behind  it;  explanations 
of  my  skulking  position  would  be  embarrassing. 
But  it  seemed  that  fortune  was  for  the  time  upon 
my  side,  as  they  paused,  chatted  a  moment,  and 
proceeded  in  a  leisurely  stroll  down  the  slope  towards 
the  water,  as  if  attracted  by  the  beauty  of  the  moon- 
lit sea. 

With  a  sigh  of  relief  I  watched  them  depart. 
Next  instant  thought  of  them  was  forgotten  by  the 
appearance  of  another  figure  in  the  doorway  —  a 
compact,  plump  little  figure ;  D'Urville,  no  other,  he 
himself  though  masking  as  Sefior  Del  Hervalle,  a 
Venezuelan!  He  stepped  forward  until  he  stood 
beside  one  of  the  white,  lofty  columns.  A  tall 
shrub  close  to  the  position  he  occupied  was  within 
my  line  of  vision,  screening  me  from  sight.  Hardly 
taking  thought  and  by  a  sudden  impulse  which  urged 
me  to  obtain  a  nearer  and  clearer  view  of  him,  I 
bent  low  and  stole  to  this  shelter,  where  peeping 


74  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

round  I  beheld  the  man  not  ten  feet  away.  He  wore 
a  black  frock  coat  buttoned  tightly  about  his  form, 
and  the  years  had  used  him  well,  for  he  was  plumper 
than  ever.  In  the  manner  of  his  former  days  he 
wore  his  beard  close  cropped  and  moustaches  waxed 
to  fine  points.  He  stood  looking  out  into  the  night, 
arms  folded,  meditating.  Here  was  no  longer  the 
modest  self-effacing  mechanic  who  used  to  go  about 
Forge  mines  in  a  greasy  workman's  jumper,  but  a 
man  of  affairs ;  the  air  of  constant  deference  which 
he  had  exhibited  at  Forge  was  gone  and  in  its  place 
one  of  resolute  dignity  and  impressive  power,  as 
befitted  an  envoy  of  a  nation.  Indeed,  his  very  body 
seemed  to  have  fed  on  more  royal  food. 

For  a  long  time  he  stood  motionless,  immersed 
in  contemplation  of  the  beauty  of  the  night,  so  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  the  tropical  country  he  had  left, 
or  busily  engaged  in  weaving  plots.  Doubtless  the 
latter ;  his  crafty  mind  was  not  apt  long  to  indulge 
in  aught  that  promised  little  profit.  I  watched  him. 
After  all,  the  matter  rested  solely  with  me ;  the  man 
had  everything  to  gain  by  burying  the  past  and 
maintaining  his  present  honorable  position,  and  it 
would  only  be  when  I  forced  him  to  defense  that 
he  would  assume  active  hostilities.  D'Urville  was, 
as  I  had  well  learned,  no  fool.  Despite  his  guilty 
career,  I  grudgingly  rendered  him  a  meed  of  ad- 
miration ;  for  in  order  to  rise  out  of  a  questionable 
and  obscure  past  in  the  brief  period  of  two  short 
years  to  the  place  he  now  held,  it  had  required  brains 


THE  ENVOY   OF  A   GOVERNMENT    75 

and  uncommon  ability.  Castro  was  no  easy  man 
to  win  a  road  to,  nor  a  light  master  to  serve.  Yet 
this  thing  D'Urville  had  accomplished,  and  he  a 
foreigner,  trod  all  the  crooked  road  to  favor,  avoided 
the  byways  of  betrayal,  escaped  the  pitfalls  of  spite, 
threaded  the  labyrinth  of  opposing  interest,  hatred, 
jealousy,  and  intrigue,  until  he  now  stood  as  the 
Venezuelan  president's  trusted  lieutenant.  Was  it 
a  wonder,  then,  that  while  gazing  at  the  figure  of 
the  man  who  stood  motionless,  with  moonlight  all 
about  him,  I  hesitated  what  to  do  ? 

But  at  that  instant  matters  took  an  unexpected 
turn,  and  I  knew  at  once  hesitation  was  no  longer 
to  be  my  course.  As  stated,  I  crouched  behind  a 
bush  not  ten  feet  from  the  position  which  D'Urville 
occupied  and  slightly  on  one  side.  Behind  me  there 
was  an  open  space  extending  to  the  angle  which 
marked  the  south  end  of  the  house.  It  was  around 
this  corner  my  assailants  must  have  come,  for  all 
at  once  I  heard  a  light  step  on  the  turf  at  my  back, 
then  before  I  could  turn  my  head  a  weight  fell  on 
me  and  I  was  crushed  to  earth.  A  twig  of  the 
bush  behind  which  I  had  stooped  sharply  scratched 
my  cheek  as  I  performed  my  involuntary  abase- 
ment, and  my  face  was  pressed  down  into  the  sod. 
Spitting  out  grass  and  dirt,  I  instinctively  drew 
myself  together  to  cast  off  this  incubus  which  lay 
upon  my  frame;  a  sudden  heave  of  my  body,  a 
quick  upward  stroke  of  my  elbow  into  the  man's 
stomach,  and  he  loosened  his  hold  with  a  hearty 


76  THE   ISLE    OF   STRIFE 

groan.  I  struggled  to  my  knees,  but  a  second  man 
leaped  at  me,  seized  my  wrists,  and  locked  them 
behind  my  back  in  a  grip  I  could  not  break;  at 
the  same  time  his  groaning  comrade  scrambled  to 
his  feet  and  administered  a  grievous  kick  in  my  ribs. 
I  looked  over  my  shoulder  and  saw  the  white  im- 
passioned face  of  the  young  man  who  had  attempted 
that  afternoon  to  dissuade  Elizabeth  Moore  from 
taking  her  sail  with  me;  he  was  drawing  back  his 
foot  to  deal  another  blow  when  my  captor,  whom 
I  could  not  see,  growled: 

"Hold  on  there  —  stop  that!  Don't  kick  him 
when  he  's  down." 

But  rage  had  wholly  mastered  the  other;  he 
swung  his  whole  strength  behind  his  toe  and  caught 
me  in  the  side.  I  was  on  my  knees;  had  it  not 
been  for  the  sustaining  grip  on  my  wrists  I  should 
have  fallen  forward,  and  as  it  was  I  turned  faint, 
while  a  sharp  pain  darted  through  my  chest,  com- 
pelling me  to  grit  my  teeth  in  order  to  utter  no 
sound.  After  a  moment  I  glanced  up  again.  The 
fellow  had  withdrawn  a  pace  and  remained  quiet, 
though  yet  convulsed  with  passion. 

"  You  coward,  I  '11  pay  that  score  some  day,"  I 
said. 

"  None  of  that  talk,"  the  man  behind  me  cried 
gruffly,  and  with  a  jerk  that  seemed  to  crack  my 
shoulder  blades  pulled  me  to  my  feet. 

"  Ha !  what  have  you  here,  Davis  ?  "  broke  in  the 
voice  of  a  new  participant. 


THE   ENVOY  OF  A   GOVERNMENT    77 

It  was  D'Urville.  Attracted  by  the  sound  of 
our  scuffle,  he  had  advanced  to  the  spot  and  now 
stood  before  me,  his  bright  eyes  shining  whitely  in 
the  pale  light. 

"  A  spy,"  said  the  young  man  who  had  dealt  the 
kicks. 

"  Ha,  a  spy !    Bring  him  into  the  house." 

Into  the  house  we  went,  therefore,  and  my  feel- 
ings were  those  of  consternation  when,  as  we  stepped 
under  the  portico,  I  heard  the  voices  of  Mr.  Moore 
and  the  young  ladies,  who  were  now  ascending  the 
slope.  D'Urville  had  not  so  far  recognized  me, 
which  was  hardly  to  be  expected,  since  my  cap  was 
pushed  over  my  eyes  and  the  scratch  on  my  cheek, 
the  smear  of  dirt  and  grass  on  my  face,  must  have 
given  me  all  the  appearances  of  a  ruffian.  The  ser- 
vant, for  so  he  proved  to  be,  kept  a  firm  and  un- 
diminished  grip  on  my  wrists  yet  held  behind  my 
back,  in  all  probability  imagining  that  he  guarded 
some  desperate  housebreaker.  The  others  preceded 
me  until  we  stopped  in  the  wide  hallway,  where 
D'Urville  swung  about. 

"  A  spy  —  and  here  in  Lavouche/'  he  said,  his 
little  black'  eyes  moving  over  my  person.  Then  in 
a  businesslike  tone,  which  hinted  at  considerable 
practice  in  similar  affairs,  "  Search  him." 

His  secretary,  pale  and  determined,  unbuttoned 
my  coat,  patted  my  pockets,  and  at  last,  feeling  the 
folded  map,  thrust  his  hand  into  my  breast  and 
drew  it  out. 


78  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

"  Here  's  something."  And  opening  it,  "  It  seems 
to  be  a  —  a  fortification." 

He  scanned  it  with  perplexed  eye.  D'Urville  bent 
forward  to  look.  Slowly,  slowly  he  leaned  forward, 
as  if  hypnotized  by  the  sheet.  All  my  evening's 
folly  now  rushed  upon  me.  Why  had  I  not  stayed 
at  home  instead  of  stealing  here  on  an  imbecile's 
errand?  I  was  about  to  pay  well,  too  well,  for  my 
curiosity.  D'Urville  suddenly  snatched  the  map  into 
his  hands,  moving  with  it  nearer  to  the  light.  His 
eyes  fed  on  it,  absorbed  every  line,  dot,  and  dash 
of  the  drawing.  It  was  perhaps  a  full  minute  that 
he  remained  lost  to  us  all  while  he  gazed  at  the 
chart,  and  I  looked  on  in  helpless  chagrin.  The 
servant,  a  stout  fellow,  never  relaxed  his  hold  for 
an  instant,  but  maintained  an  iron  clamp  on  my 
wrists,  awaiting  stolidly  the  outcome  of  what  to 
him  must  have  been  an  extraordinary  affair.  Davis 
looked  alternately  at  his  employer,  at  the  map,  at 
me,  wrinkling  his  brow  in  an  endeavor  to  gain  some 
inkling  as  to  D'Urville's  concentrated  interest. 

At  last  the  Frenchman  lifted  his  head.  Still  hold- 
ing the  map,  he  advanced  a  step  to  scrutinize  me. 
His  black  eyes  read  every  feature,  every  mark  of  my 
face,  and  at  last  his  own  countenance  grew  less  in- 
tent, resumed  its  placidity;  he  even  smiled. 

"  I  have  wondered,  oh,  many  times  what  had  be- 
come of  this  map  of  cher  Frederic"  He  tapped  the 
map  with  forefinger.  "  Woodworth  is  your  name. 
And  now  you  bring  it  to  me,  like  a  miracle,  truly 


THE   ENVOY   OF   A   GOVERNMENT    79 

like  a  miracle."  And  with  all  the  composure  in  the 
world,  he  folded  it,  while  I  looked  on  in  disgusted 
silence,  and  placed  it  in  an  inner  pocket.  "  A  spy 
surely,  Davis;  we  must  send  this  paper  away  from 
the  island  —  before  Mr.  Moore  returns.  No,  we 
must  not  disturb  our  good  host.  It  has  only  to  do 
with  Venezuela,  this." 

Like  a  flash  his  purpose  struck  my  mind.  With 
his  usual  swift  cunning  he  had  conceived  the  one 
way  to  get  possession  of  the  map ;  once  away  from 
the  hall  he  could  secrete  the  paper  and  invent  an  ex- 
planation plausible  enough  to  satisfy  Mr.  Moore's 
mind.  And  now  he  knew  me;  recognition  had 
dawned  upon  him  as  he  searched  my  face.  But  he 
did  not  know  that  Mr.  Moore  was  my  friend;  and 
at  that  instant  I  heard  the  light  voices  of  the  re- 
turning party  at  the  door. 

"  Give  me  that  paper,  D'Urville,"  I  demanded. 

His  eyes  narrowed,  but  he  did  not  move. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,"  my  captor  said,  giving  my 
wrists  a  savage  turn. 

Then  I  did  a  second  foolish  thing  that  night;  I 
looked  D'Urville  full  in  the  face  and  smiled. 

"  For  once  you  miscalculate,  monsieur ;  it  hap- 
pens that  Mr.  Moore  and  I  know  each  other  of  old." 

He  started.  Already  his  host's  feet  were  on  the 
low  step  of  the  portico,  the  merry  chatter  of  the  girls 
came  plainly  to  our  ears.  I  waited  relaxed,  enjoy- 
ing my  triumph,  and  I  felt  a  slight  lessening  of  the 
servant's  grip  on  my  arms  at  this  declaration. 


8o  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

D'Urville  stood  motionless.  Then  he  poured  out  a 
rapid  stream  of  utterance,  low  and  imperative,  to 
his  secretary. 

"  Take  this  to  the  place  you  know.  Conceal  it. 
It  threatens  us.  Act  swiftly.  Ask  no  questions, 
but  conceal  it.  Now,  at  once!  "  And  plunging  his 
hand  into  his  breast  once  again,  D'Urville  drew  out 
the  map.  "  That  stair  —  that  stair  —  Avoid  every 
one.  Make  haste." 

Davis  sprang  forward,  his  sallow  face  illuminated 
by  the  knowledge  that  there  was  imperative  need  to 
act.  Intrigue  he  was  familiar  with,  an  adept  in; 
he  needed  no  second  word.  Seizing  the  map,  he 
swiftly,  noiselessly  leaped  up  the  stair  just  as  Mr. 
Moore  and  the  two  girls  stepped  within  the  hall. 

At  sight  of  us  they  halted  dumfounded.  But  I 
had  already  made  my  resolution,  waited  but  this 
instant  when  the  servant  was  looking  away  from 
me  and  at  them  to  put  it  into  execution.  With  a 
sudden  wrench  I  tore  myself  free.  A  bound  and  I 
was  at  the  stair  and  darting  upward  four  steps  at 
a  time.  Davis's  coat-tails  were  just  disappearing 
along  the  hall.  Behind  me  all  was  confusion. 

"  I  've  spilled  the  broth  now,"  said  I,  as  I  reached 
the  top  step. 


CHAPTER   V 

HOW  A  DOCUMENT  MAY  ACQUIRE  IMPORTANCE 

Davis  cast  a  flying  glance  back,  then  vanished 
around  an  angle  in  the  hall.  One  intense  purpose 
dominated  me  —  to  recapture  the  map;  and  this  I 
resolved  to  do  even  if  necessary  to  follow  the  man 
into  his  very  room.  But  such  refuge  was  appar- 
ently not  his  goal,  for  he  kept  straight  on  until 
finally  darting  into  a  side  passage  I  saw  him  dash 
from  sight  down  the  servants'  stair;  memory  of 
its  location  leaped  into  my  mind,  for  as  a  child  I 
had  more  than  once  pursued  Betty  along  this  very 
runway,  when  we  had  quarreled  over  a  division  of 
cake  or  when  in  a  flash  of  temper  she  had  knocked 
over  my  house  of  blocks.  So  early  as  that  she  and 
I  had  not  agreed.  Those  were  pursuits  which  ended 
in  nothing  more  than  a  pull  of  her  braid  of  hair; 
this  one  would  have  a  more  serious  end  if  the  fellow 
sought  to  retain  the  chart.  For  I  meant  to  have  it 
at  all  costs. 

Down  I  clattered  after  him,  rushed  through  a 
group  of  startled  servants  standing  motionless  in 
the  kitchen,  and  burst  out  a  rear  door.  Ten  yards 
in  advance  ran  Davis  bareheaded.  I  saw  the  folded 
map  in  his  hand.  Fear  perhaps  winged  his  feet; 


82  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

but  anger  gave  me  speed  and  I  gained  upon  him. 
Around  the  corner  of  the  house  he  ran ;  I  closed  up 
and  reached  to  seize  him,  but  he  swerved  towards 
the  wood.  By  a  quick  sprint  I  overtook  him,  sprang 
on  his  back,  and  he  went  down  with  a  strangled  cry 
beneath  my  weight.  I  wrested  the  paper  from  his 
resistless  hand  and  still  resting  a  knee  upon  his  body 
put  the  prize  away  in  my  breast-pocket.  Strongly 
tempted  as  I  was  to  give  him  a  drubbing,  the  sight 
of  his  pallid  face  and  rolling  eyes  restrained  me; 
he  was  not  a  strong  man,  not  so  strong  as  the  aver- 
age, nowhere  near  so  strong  as  I,  and  though  the 
soreness  in  my  side  still  kept  fresh  the  recollection 
of  his  dastardly  kick  it  would  have  been  the  extreme 
of  brutality  to  retaliate  on  so  helpless  an  adversary. 

"Stand  up!"  I  ordered. 

He  rose  stiffly,  silently,  and  stood  motionless.  His 
face  was  even  paler  now  than  it  had  been  before, 
since  I  stood  close  before  him,  keeping  one  hand  on 
his  arm.  He  was  breathing  in  short  labored  inhala- 
tions, and  his  lips  worked  in  jerks  and  twitches;  a 
physical  coward,  I  set  him  down,  and  now  in  a 
terrible  state  of  apprehension.  Placing  his  hand 
upon  his  bosom  as  if  pressing  back  a  pain  in  the 
region  of  his  heart,  he  whipped  out  a  dagger  and 
lunged  at  me  as  swiftly  as  a  cornered  animal  strikes. 
Its  flash  in  the  moonlight  gave  warning,  and  I  sprang 
to  one  side,  but  not  in  time  to  escape  a  ripped  sleeve. 
I  pulled  him  to  me,  knocked  up  the  hand  holding  the 
weapon,  and  sent  it  flying  out  upon  the  turf. 


A   DOCUMENT  83 

"  You  attempt  murder,  do  you  ? "  I  said,  now 
gripping  his  arm  until  I  knew  it  ached. 

But  he  remained  silent  as  ever,  as  if  he  had  lost 
power  of  speech;  only  his  black  eyes  were  staring 
large  and  luminous.  He  made  no  resistance.  Fright 
had  completely  mastered  him,  and  I  looked  at  him 
in  curiosity.  His  frame  was  frail ;  there  was  a  vague 
indefinable  suggestion  in  his  features,  a  mixture  of 
races  that  hinted  at  several  and  bespoke  none,  hy- 
bridity.  The  whole  person  of  him  suggested  an 
underlying  unnaturalness  of  character  and  consti- 
tution, and  yet  one  could  not  lay  a  finger  on  any- 
thing tangible.  It  was  difficult  to  imagine  that  he 
was  the  same  person  who  had  a  short  time  previous 
leaped  on  my  back :  where  had  he  found  the  courage  ? 
A  curious  anomaly !  Now  he  was  as  putty ;  yet  de- 
spite his  fear  of  what  I  might  do,  of  terror  of 
physical  pain  that  held  him  unresisting  and  dumb, 
I  was  conscious  that  there  was  present  in  his  look 
a  passion  of  hatred  that  no  fear,  however  great, 
could  wholly  subdue. 

"  Get  away  from  here,"  I  said  in  disgust.  "  Go 
back  to  your  master." 

Obedient  as  an  automaton  he  walked  towards  the 
door  and,  my  anger  dissipated,  I  watched  him  still 
curious  as  to  the  kind  of  creature  he  was.  Then  I 
moved  to  the  spot  where  the  dagger  had  fallen  and 
raised  it  from  where  it  lay  with  shining  blade  upon 
the  grass;  it  was  more  of  a  stiletto  than  anything 
else,  thin  and  needle-pointed  and  with  a  handle  of 


84  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

silver.  I  would  keep  it,  for  it  was  fairly  my  spoil ; 
and  it  would  be  a  relic  to  have  of  a  strange  man 
and  an  unusual  evening.  After  all,  I  had  not  lost 
any  property  by  my  adventure ;  I  still  had  the  map. 
And  yet,  stay !  Had  I  not  lost  something,  or  rather 
acquired  a  new  menace?  Heretofore  the  map  had 
only  got  me  the  German  for  an  enemy,  but  now 
D'Urville,  who  had  been  conversant  with  Douglass's 
plans  and  plots,  indeed,  a  partner  in  them,  and  who 
consequently  knew  all  about  this  paper,  would  also 
become  an  active  striver  for  its  possession.  He  was 
well  aware  what  fort  it  represented;  doubtless  he 
had  assisted  in  determining  what  market  it  should 
go  into;  at  any  rate,  he  was  fully  apprised  of  its 
high  value  as  a  secret  and  that  was  enough  to  spur 
him  to  action  for  its  acquisition.  More  fool  I  for 
thinking  to  unmask  the  scoundrel  and  put  him  on 
the  defensive;  Charles  Woodworth  was  the  man 
who  would  now  need  to  take  good  care  how  he 
walked. 

D'Urville's  attack  however  lay  somewhere  in  the 
future.  A  nearer  complication  of  the  comedy  just 
completed  lay  in  the  explanation  which  of  course 
I  must  make  to  Mr.  Moore.  My  presence,  my 
strange  situation  as  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  one 
of  the  house  servants,  my  sudden  and  spectacular 
race  up  stairs  and  down  through  his  dwelling,  was 
an  affair  that  must  have  aroused  his  astonishment 
and  could  not  go  unchallenged.  Clearly  there  was 
only  one  course  to  follow,  but  how  much  to  tell  — 


A   DOCUMENT  85 

ah,  that  was  the  trouble.  So  with  meditative  feet 
I  made  my  way  to  the  door. 

The  actors  in  the  scene  which  had  occurred  in  the 
hall,  with  the  exception  of  myself,  still  stood  upon 
the  spot,  while  beyond  them  servants'  heads  showed 
crowding  doors.  Davis  was  the  center  of  interest 
now,  but  spoke  briefly,  evidently  under  the  restraint 
of  Del  Hervalle's  cautioning  eye.  Undoubtedly  the 
envoy  would  have  much  preferred  to  make  explana- 
tions himself,  but  of  what  had  occurred  on  the  lawn 
between  Davis  and  me  he  was  ignorant  and  must 
of  necessity  patiently  accept  a  minor  role.  I  re- 
moved my  cap  and  stepped  in,  forgetful  that  I  still 
had  all  the  appearance  of  a  ruffian.  The  servant 
who  had  assisted  in  my  capture  at  once  advanced  to 
meet  me  and  renew  his  frustrated  policy  duty,  but 
Mr.  Moore  waved  him  aside. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"I  —  why,  Charles  Woodworth,"  I  stated. 

His  eyebrows  lifted  the  fraction  of  an  inch;  a 
diplomat,  however,  is  always  master  of  himself,  or 
supposed  to  be,  so  with  a  keen  glance  he  scrutinized 
my  face,  then  extended  his  hand  in  recognition. 

"  So  you  are  —  but  somewhat  decorated.  Your 
presence  is  welcome,  as  we  are  seeking  a  solution 
of  this  singular  affair.  Have  you  turned  burglar  ?  " 

"  No ;  it  was  I  who  was  robbed." 

"  My  servant  and  Mr.  Davis  state  that  they  came 
round  the  house,  saw  a  man  skulking  across  the 
lawn  and  behind  a  bush,  and  captured  him." 


86  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  I  was  the  man,"  I  answered  promptly. 

"  The  evidence  of  your  face  points  that  way." 

"  Let  me  explain.  As  I  approached  the  house  I 
perceived  this  gentleman  "  —  I  bowed  to  the  envoy 
— "  and  paused  to  look  at  him.  I  had  met  him 
under  other  and  less  estimable  circumstances  and 
naturally  was  interested  at  finding  him  here  on  the 
island  of  Lavouche.  I  desired  to  observe  him  before 
introducing  myself  anew,  in  order  to  make  sure  I 
was  not  laboring  under  a  mistake.  Then  these  other 
two  men  fell  in  an  avalanche  upon  my  back  and 
haled  me  here." 

"  You  knew  Senor  Del  Hervalle,  you  say?  " 

"  Very  well,  indeed,  but  under  another  alias.  At 
that  time,  which  was  two  years  ago  this  summer, 
he  was  a  mechanic  in  the  west.  Jack  Maitland  also 
shares  his  acquaintance." 

Mr.  Moore  turned  to  D'Urville.  "  This  is  pe- 
culiar, yet  evidently  a  case  of  mistaken  identity, 
Senor.  You  were  in  Venezuela  at  the  time,  were 
you  not  ?  " 

"  Of  a  certainty,  yes,  as  you  know,  Senor 
Moore." 

Mr.  Moore  turned  to  me.  "  Charles,  you  've  con- 
fused my  guest  with  some  one  else.  Apologies  all 
around  will  end  this  peculiar  contretemps.  Senor 
Del  Hervalle  has  been  in  Venezuela  for  years,  as 
President  Castro  himself  told  me,  and  was  born 
there  of  French  parentage,  later  educated  in  France." 

I  turned  and  looked  D'Urville  full  in  the  eye;  his 


A    DOCUMENT  87 

past  had,  it  now  appeared,  been  effectually  buried 
with  the  connivance  of  the  president  whom  he  served 
and  who  would  find  such  an  amending  of  the  record 
very  easy  to  contrive.  As  for  the  little  Frenchman 
—  consummate  actor !  —  he  smiled  at  me  blandly, 
even  kindly,  as  experience  smiles  forgiveness  on  the 
impetuous  errors  of  youth.  Thereupon,  turning  my 
eyes  back  to  Elizabeth's  father,  I  perceived,  so  far 
as  I  was  able  to  judge  from  his  composed  features, 
that  evidently  he  was  convinced  of  my  mistake. 
This  was  no  time  to  arraign  the  envoy  for  high 
crimes ;  that  were  folly  —  his  alibi  was  too  perfect. 
Well,  why  not  carry  out  the  farce  until  a  more 
favorable  wind  blew? 

"  A  mistake  it  seems,"  I  agreed  with  simulated 
thought  fulness.  Then,  with  an  inspiration,  "  How 
about  appropriating  my  paper,  Sefior?  " 

"  Ah,  that !  It  is  a  map  of  one  of  my  country's 
forts  —  Venezuela's  fort.  I  must  beg  of  you  to 
give  it  to  me." 

The  sly  fox!  My  inspiration  had  given  him  a 
chance,  and  the  audacity  of  his  move  held  me  for 
a  moment  speechless. 

"  What  is  this,  Charles  ? "  Mr.  Moore  asked 
quickly.  "  A  map  —  what  map  and  what  fort  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  paper  in  my  pocket  which  the  Sefior 
sought  to  take  from  me.  Indeed,  he  did  take  it  from 
me.  Is  it  likely  that  I  should  have  any  of  Venezuela's 
plans  of  fortification  on  my  person  ?  It 's  another 
case  of  '  mistaken  identity  '  and  this  time  on  the  part 


88  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

of    Senor   D'Ur — Hervalle.      'Mistaken    identity' 
seems  to  be  contagious  in  Moore  House  to-night." 

Mr.  Moore  was  too  adept  in  this  particular  busi- 
ness of  veiled  talk  not  to  read  an  underlying  mean- 
ing. He  gazed  at  me  sharply,  glanced  once  at 
D'Urville,  once  at  Davis,  then  remarked: 

"  You  have  a  map  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  map." 

"Of  a  fortification?" 

I  paused.    "  That  I  must  decline  to  answer." 

"  Then  it  would  be  useless  to  inquire  if  I  might 
see  it?" 

"  I  fear  so,  Mr.  Moore." 

"  Or  ask  Ijow  you  obtained  it  ?  " 

"  For  the  present  at  least,  while  so  much  mistaken 
identity  exists.  My  explanations  would  sound  un- 
convincing." 

"  Very  remarkable,  this  occurrence."  And  he  took 
a  pace  or  two  back  and  forth. 

I  now  had  time  to  regard  the  others,  who  at  this 
time  were  more  on-lookers  than  participants  in  the 
scene.  Davis  stood  on  one  side  expressionless,  save 
for  his  eyes ;  farther  back  was  the  servant  who  had 
done  his  duty  so  well  in  seizing  me;  on  one  side 
by  a  hall-tree,  Elizabeth  and  her  friend  listened  with 
large  eyes.  The  latter  was  a  brown-haired  girl  of 
about  Elizabeth's  size,  pretty,  with  a  vivacious  ex- 
pression upon  her  face,  now  emphasized  by  intense 
interest.  Fat  little  D'Urville  continued  benevolent, 
slightly  thoughtful,  guileless.  I  gingerly  rubbed  my 


A    DOCUMENT  89 

scratched  cheek  and  considered;  unlike  the  fisher- 
man of  the  Arabian  tale,  I  had  not  succeeded  in 
persuading  the  genie  back  into  the  jar  and  he  had 
escaped  abroad;  in  other  words,  the  map  was  play- 
ing the  deuce! 

It  may  seem  strange  that,  focused  as  were  all 
our  minds  on  this  paper,  I  presently  became  occupied 
with  consideration  of  another  subject  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  the  other.  This  was  Betty.  The  suggestion 
came  creeping  into  a  cell  somewhere  in  my  brain  to 
take  note  how  she  considered  my  presence,  nay,  to 
be  accurate,  my  performance;  for  my  precipitation 
into  Moore  House  so  soon  after  her  cold  dis- 
missal of  the  afternoon  could  not  be  without  effect 
upon  her.  However  she  was  not  looking  in  my 
direction;  she  was  gazing  intently  at  her  father's 
chief  guest,  a  little  wrinkle  creasing  her  white  fore- 
head, gazing  with  an  intentness  as  much  of  mind  as 
of  look,  and  I  idly  wondered  what  could  be  the 
cause.  Her  fair  companion  murmured  an  aside  to 
her,  but  Elizabeth  did  not  answer,  nor  was  a  repe- 
tition better  favored.  Clearly  something  deeply 
engaged  her. 

Then  Mr.  Moore  finished  his  pacing. 

"  We  're  certain  of  the  following  facts,"  he  said, 
"  which  brush  away  the  confusion.  Mr.  Davis  mis- 
took you  for  a  burglar." 

"Quite  true;   for  a  spy,  in  fact." 

"  And  you  mistook  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  for  a  sort 
of  polite  highwayman." 


90  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

"  That 's  a  natural  construction  to  put  on  his  act." 

"  Sefior  believed  you  held  a  paper  inimical  to 
Venezuela." 

"  Possibly  he  believes  so  yet."  And  I  looked  at 
my  little  controversialist. 

D'Urville  spread  his  hands  in  an  eloquent  ges- 
ture which  might  have  meant  nothing,  which  might 
have  meant  anything. 

"If  you  '11  assure  him  that  it 's  not  a  map  of  a 
Venezuelan  fortress  — "  Mr.  Moore  suggested, 
pausing. 

"  I  think  I  can  so  assure  him." 

"  Though  of  some  fortress,  in  fact,"  he  continued 
dryly. 

I  bit  my  lip.  He  had  trapped  me  neatly,  and  that 
piece  of  fat  was  in  the  fire. 

"  Though  of  some  fortress,  yes." 

"  Your  word  will  be  sufficient,  I  'm  confident." 

"  Then  he  has  it." 

Instantly  a  smile  illuminated  the  Frenchman's 
face;  his  moustache  points  rose  beatifically.  He 
placed  a  hand  upon  his  breast  and  bowed. 

"  It  is  of  great  sufficiency,  Sefior  —  Sefior  — 
The  honor  of  your  name  I  have  not  yet." 

"  Woodworth  —  one  easily  forgotten." 

"  So  the  whole  matter,  with  exception  "  —  Mr. 
Moore  regarded  me  shrewdly  —  "  of  how  you  hap- 
pen to  be  possessed  of  a  map  of  a  fortress,  is  cleared 
up." 

"  Oh,  as  for  the  map,"  said  I  lightly,  "  I  obtained 


A   DOCUMENT  91 

it  as  spoils  of  war.  But  that  would  not  interest  you." 
And  I  turned  away  as  if  the  subject  were  concluded. 

"As  you  have  also  obtained  spoils  of  grass  and 
good  rich  soil.  Let  us  hope  the  one  may  prove  no 
more  serious  than  the  other/' 

In  pursuing  the  controversy  it  was  true  I 
had  forgotten  what  sort  of  appearance  I  made; 
therefore  stating  that  I  would  return  home  and  call 
another  time  when  I  was  more  presentable,  and  Mr. 
Moore  and  his  party  accepting  my  apologies,  I  with- 
drew. Outside  the  door  I  was  accosted  by  the  ser- 
vant who  had  aided  in  my  capture. 

"  I  'm  sorry,  sir,  I  was  mixed  up  in  an  attack  on 
you,  Mr.  Woodworth,"  he  said. 

"  No  harm  done." 

"  I  really  supposed  you  a  spy." 

"  My  position  might  have  led  to  that  belief." 

He  hesitated,  looked  over  his  shoulder,  then  ad- 
dressed me  in  a  lowered  voice. 

"  Funny  thing,  sir,  about  that  map." 

I  looked  at  him.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

He  jerked  his  thumb  towards  the  drawing-room 
door,  then  slowly  winked.  "  Him." 

"  Sefior  Del  Hervalle?"  I  was  still  mystified. 
"  Explain." 

"  Why,  he  spoke  your  name  while  I  held  your 
hands,  then  afterwards  said  he  did  n't  know  you." 

This  time  it  was  I  who  winked,  also  I  put  some- 
thing substantial  in  his  hand  and  bade  him  preserve 
silence. 


92  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

I  was  entirely  correct  when  I  judged  that  D'Ur- 
ville  would  not  long  delay  making  another  move  in 
the  game.  He  was  prompt,  but  as  I  might  have 
anticipated  in  dealing  with  such  a  man  it  was  ex- 
actly the  step  I  had  not  expected.  By  nature  he 
should  have  attempted  a  hidden  stroke ;  imagine  then 
my  surprise  when  next  morning,  with  the  sunlight 
over  all  the  island  and  sea,  he  came  walking  briskly 
up  the  path  to  the  veranda  where  I  sat.  His  man- 
ner was  businesslike.  I  rose  to  greet  him. 

"  You  '11  permit  me  to  visit  you  ?  "  he  inquired 
suavely. 

"  By  all  means  —  in  daylight." 

I  placed  a  chair  for  him,  which  he  accepted 
graciously. 

"  Your  view  over  the  water  is  charming,  Senor." 

"  It  is,  without  question." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  enjoy  it." 

"  Very  much.  But  surely  you  did  not  do  me  the 
honor  to  call  merely  for  a  discussion  of  scenery." 

He  twisted  a  point  of  his  moustache  and  turned 
to  me  smiling. 

"  The  last  time  we  met  —  let  me  see,"  he  began. 
"  Was  it  not  on  a  steamer  gangway  in  New  York  ? 
You  were  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  ashore." 

"  While  you  were  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  aboard. 
Time  has  treated  you  well.  Your  fortunes  were 
rather  obscure  then,  Monsieur  D'Urville  —  " 

"  Sefior  Del  Hervalle,  I  pray  you,"  he  interrupted 
calmly,  at  the  same  time  lifting  a  hand  in  protest. 


A   DOCUMENT  93 

"  Monsieur  D'Urville  does  not  exist,  if  indeed  such 
a  gentleman  ever  existed  —  a  mechanic,  I  believe 
you  said  last  evening.  Bah,  what  have  we  to  do 
with  artisans!  I  know  nothing  of  them  or  of  this 
D'Urville,  and  I  am  sure  that  you,  my  friend,  re- 
member nothing  of  such  a  man.  And  now,  Senor 
Woodworth,  the  occasion  of  my  visit  is  to  discuss 
with  you  the  disposition  of  the  map  which  you  now 
hold." 

"  Well,  it  really  needs  little  discussion,"  I  said, 
"  seeing  that  it 's  mine." 

"  You  are  impetuous,  hasty,  Senor  Woodworth." 

He  moved  the  tails  of  his  coat  upon  his  knees, 
folding  his  hands  upon  his  walking  stick,  and  looked 
at  me  inquiringly. 

"  What  do  you  propose?  "  I  asked. 

"  Concerted  action.  I  am  in  a  position  of  influ- 
ence and  have  many  sources  of  knowledge.  I  will 
advise  you  where  to  dispose  of  it." 

"  What  fortress  is  it  the  map  of  ?  " 

"  Ah,  Senor,  that  I  must  not  say.  You  have  the 
map,  but  without  its  name  it  is  worthless;  I  have 
the  name,  but  without  the  map  am  helpless.  We 
must,  as  I  say,  combine  our  forces  to  place  the  map 
where  it  will  prove  the  most  effective." 

"As  well  as  lucrative?"  I  smiled. 

"  The  secret  war  constantly  going  on  between 
nations,  my  young  friend,  allows  many  things  to 
be  done  which  would  be  discreditable  in  private  life," 
he  remarked.  "  What  we  would  never  do  in  a  per- 


94  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

sonal  capacity,  as  between  one  man  and  another,  is 
in  international  affairs  legitimate.  It  is  part  of  the 
preparedness  for  war.  We  therefore  will  be  acting 
only  the  part  of  patriots,  assisting  our  noble  coun- 
tries inasmuch  as  we  weaken  a  rival." 

I  smiled  at  this  sophistry.  "  Then  the  noble  part 
would  be  for  me  to  deliver  this  to  my  government 
at  once.  I  will  do  so." 

"  No."  His  hand  was  again  lifted  to  stop  me. 
"  That  would  be  a  hasty  error.  Here  we  have  a  map 
of  a  European  fortress,  shall  we  say?  In  European 
affairs  the  United  States  is  neutral,  has  little  con- 
cern. But  what  of  Europe  itself  ?  Ah,  Senor  Wood- 
worth,  we  must  play  a  stroke  of  policy  —  you  to 
assist  in  secret  your  splendid  republic,  I  to  deal  a 
wound  to  those  selfish  nations  who  already  have 
sought  to  crush  my  good  friend,  El  Presidente,  and 
seize  his  customs.  No,  no,  we  will  dispose  of  it  in 
a  quarter  where  it  will  accomplish  much,  and  since 
this  is  a  practical  age  we  shall  personally  benefit 
by  the  patriotic  transaction.  Entrust  to  me  nego- 
tiations." 

"  You  're  built  for  such,  I  'm  sure." 

"  And  the  map." 

"  Now  it  is  you  who  are  in  haste,  Senor  Del 
Hervalle.  Your  action  of  last  night  is  still  fresh 
in  mind,  and  I  tell  you  frankly  that  I  have  no  idea 
of  selling  the  map  or  going  into  partnership  with 
you.  I  really  don't  trust  you,  you  know,"  I  re- 
marked pleasantly,  while  looking  him  in  the  eyes. 


A    DOCUMENT  95 

"  Your  record  while  brilliant  is  not  exactly  inspiring, 
even  allowing  for  its  success.  You  know  you  might 
run  off  with  the  map.  Your  diplomacy  even  com- 
passes treachery.  Take,  for  instance,  your  little 
affair  with  Lonagan,  the  gun-runner." 

There  was  a  slight  narrowing  of  his  eyes.  But 
if  I  thought  to  startle  him  out  of  his  placid  com- 
posure, I  undershot  the  mark.  He  continued  to 
smile  upon  me,  his  hands  resting  upon  his  walking 
stick. 

"  Lonagan  —  a  contemptible  trader,"  he  said. 
"  But  I  perceive,  Senor  Woodworm,  that  our  views 
are  yet  some  distance  apart  and  that  we  shall  have 
to  confer  from  time  to  time  until  this  matter  is 
agreed  upon." 

"  I  fear  that  it  will  be  useless." 

"  There  again  you  are  impetuous.  Diplomacy  can 
arrange  all  matters,  and  we  will  be  diplomatic."  He 
took  up  his  hat  and  rose.  "Let  me  suggest  you 
keep  close  watch  upon  the  map." 

"  Never  fear  as  to  that." 

"  Do  not  let  it  pass  from  your  possession." 

"  I  will  not,  I  can  assure  you." 

"  Even  to  go  from  the  island." 

Now  I  looked  at  him  closely.  His  voice  had 
grown  a  trifle  more  insistent.  Was  this  a  veiled 
threat?  Was  he  warning  me  not  to  attempt  to  take 
the  map  from  out  of  his  reach? 

"  You  are  favored  with  visitors,"  he  said  presently. 

Sure  enough,  up  the  path  came  my  German.    He 


96  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

moved  leisurely,  swinging  his  stick.  At  the  step 
of  the  veranda  he  lifted  his  hat  politely,  then 
mounted. 

"If  your  business  is  finished,  Mr.  Woodworth, 
I  desire  to  continue  our  discussion  of  a  certain 
subject." 

"  I  can't  do  that  until  I  am  apprised  of  whom  I  'm 
receiving." 

He  drew  forth  a  card-case  and  extracting  a  card 
handed  it  to  me.  I  examined  it.  The  humor  of 
the  situation  was  too  keen  to  be  ignored,  and  so  I 
turned  to  the  Frenchman. 

"  Sefior  Del  Hervalle,  allow  me  to  present  to  you 
Baron  Adolph  Von  Hussman  —  Baron,  Sefior  Del 
Hervalle,  special  envoy  from  Venezuela." 

The  pair  bowed.  Del  Hervalle's  face  beamed  wel- 
come and  courtesy;  the  Baron's  countenance  was 
polite  and  expressionless.  Then  I  could  not  resist 
adding : 

"  You  two  should  meet,  as  you  both  appear  in- 
terested in  a  certain  document  which  I  possess." 

"  Baron,  we  shall  be  great  friends,"  Sefior  Del 
Hervalle  exclaimed  delightfully. 

"  The  interests  of  Germany  and  Venezuela  —  and 
France,  shall  I  say  ?  —  can  never  move  except  in 
harmony." 

Such  good-will  was  deserving  of  honor. 

"  We  '11  drink  a  cup  of  wine,"  I  said.  "  Andrew, 
glasses  and  the  tankard  of  sherry." 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   VARIOUS   VISITS   OF   SENOR   DEL   HERVALLE 

The  Frenchman  had,  after  a  courteous  interval, 
bowed  himself  away,  and  the  Baron  occupied  the 
place  of  my  previous  visitor.  We  had  talked  for 
some  time,  but  now  sat  silent,  gazing  out  upon  the 
ocean  while  I  awaited  his  further  pleasure.  His 
straw  hat  and  stick  were  held  in  one  hand,  with  the 
other  he  from  time  to  time  gave  a  thoughtful  up- 
ward twist  to  his  Kaiser-like  moustache.  I  had 
occasion  to  examine  him  more  carefully;  he  was 
not  far  from  forty,  one  side  or  the  other  of  that 
age,  and  a  man  in  his  prime;  the  square  set  of  his 
shoulders  bespoke  military  training,  and  both  his 
bearing  and  manner  showed  that  he  was  a  man  accus- 
tomed to  dealing  with  large  affairs;  his  face  was 
impassive,  but  no  self-repression  could  hide  what  his 
jaw  indicated,  determination  to  stubbornness.  Well, 
I  had  already  had  the  evidence  of  his  perseverance. 

Clearly  he  found  the  situation  perplexing,  found 
me  an  anomaly  in  that  class  of  gentlemen  common 
on  the  Continent  who  live  by  the  use  of  their  wits 
and  by  sale  of  such  secrets  as  nations  are  willing 
to  trade  in.  The  presence  of  Del  Hervalle  confirmed 
him  in  his  early  suspicion  —  and  this  was  just  be- 


98  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

ginning  to  dawn  upon  me,  with  its  possible  results 
—  that  I  was  a  dealer  in  illegitimate  wares.  Once 
or  twice  I  found  his  eye  resting  on  me  speculatively. 
On  meeting  Del  Hervalle  he  had  instantly  believed 
him  another  bidder,  as  the  Frenchman  on  his  part 
thought  he  had  discovered  a  rival.  This  joint  opin- 
ion I  had  firmly  established  in  their  minds  by  re- 
ferring to  their  common  interest  in  the  map;  there 
was  no  harm  in  that  —  they  would  have  surmised 
each  other's  business  in  any  case.  Where  the  mis- 
chief lay  was  of  course  in  this  rivalry;  each  alone 
might  have  been  content  to  let  time  provide  him 
with  an  opportunity  to  secure  the  map,  but  now  each 
man  would  become  active  in  order  to  triumph  over 
his  opponent.  A  very  pretty  situation,  indeed,  with 
myself  the  bull's-eye. 

The  Baron  now  considered  me,  if  not  with  more 
respect,  at  least  as  a  man  of  more  ability  than  he 
had  at  first  given  me  credit  for.  I  could  almost 
follow  his  thoughts;  ostensibly  the  Frenchman  was 
a  guest  at  Moore  House  and  I  an  idler  on  a  vacation, 
in  reality  we  were  met  in  this  remote  spot  by  ap- 
pointment to  engage  in  negotiations.  Sefior  Del 
Hervalle  might  be  anything  in  addition  to  being 
an  envoy  of  Venezuela  —  those  tropical  statesmen 
were  not  averse  to  turning  a  quiet  penny  —  and  this 
one  was  a  Frenchman,  probably  a  secret  agent  of 
France,  which,  as  all  the  world  knew,  loved  Germany 
dearly.  The  humor  of  the  situation  appealed  to  me, 
though  I  knew  that  I  might  yet  laugh  in  another 


SENOR   DEL    HERVALLE  99 

fashion  before  all  was  done.  Really  I  found  the 
Baron  attractive;  he  was  the  sort  of  gentleman  I 
would  have  liked  to  number  among  my  friends,  a 
clean-cut,  reserved,  capable,  staunch  man;  he  had 
been  knocked  down  by  me,  but  not  deterred  from 
his  purpose,  and  he  had  accepted  my  apology  for 
the  necessity  of  the  same  as  viewed  from  my  stand- 
point, and  held  no  animosity.  That  defeat  was  only 
an  incident  of  the  game;  and  he  carried  himself  well 
here  at  my  house  when  his  was  a  delicate  task,  main- 
taining his  part  as  a  negotiator,  not  a  petitioner. 

"  My  dear  Baron,"  said  I,  "  what  are  you  think- 
ing of?" 

"  Of  what  important  issues  may  hang  on  chance. 
If  we  had  not  met,  for  instance  —  "  He  paused. 

"  We  should  not  have  the  pleasure  of  each  other's 
company." 

"  You  measure  it  too  lightly,  Mr.  Woodworth. 
If  we  had  not  met,  who  can  predict  what  infinite 
harm  might  come  to  pass  ?  " 

"And  now?" 

"  I  at  least  know  what  and  where  to  suspect,  which 
would  otherwise  have  never  been  the  case." 

He  lighted  a  cigarette  and  turned  his  blue  eyes 
upon  me  smiling. 

"  That  is  something,"  said  I. 

"  I  came  here  this  morning  once  more  to  request 
that  you  hand  me  the  map,  but  I  perceive  now  that 
the  affair  has  passed  such  a  stage.  It 's  a  matter  of 
bargaining." 


100 

"  I  can't  bargain,  I  regret  to  state." 

"Ah!" 

The  exclamation  was  full  of  meaning;  his  obvi- 
ous conclusion  was  that  I  had  already  progressed 
so  far  with  Del  Hervalle  that  I  could  not  open 
negotiations  in  a  new  direction. 

"  I  've  not  as  yet  come  to  any  agreement  with  any 
one,  particularly  with  my  late  visitor,"  I  said  dryly. 
"  Would  you  like  to  see  the  map  ?  " 

He  shot  a  surprised  look  at  me,  but  answered 
without  eagerness,  "  Certainly,  as  you  know." 

"  There  's  one  condition." 

"Condition?" 

"  Your  word  will  satisfy  me  perfectly,  Baron." 

He  looked  at  me,  took  a  puff  at  his  cigarette,  and 
then  gazed  out  on  the  water. 

"  Name  the  condition,"  he  said  finally. 

"  If  I  show  you  this  map,  I  must  have  your  word 
that  you  will  make  no  further  effort  to  see  it  or 
to  obtain  it,  and  that  you  will  go  away  from  the 
island.  In  turn,  I  '11  give  you  assurance  that  the 
map  in  no  way  shall  be  used  to  the  detriment  of  your 
country." 

"  That  is  an  impossible  demand." 

"  It 's  a  fair  one." 

"  I  fear,  Mr.  Woodworth,  that  after  all  you  're 
inexperienced  in  this  sort  of  business  —  or  is  it 
merely  a  bold  stroke?" 

"  Inexperience,  no  doubt." 

He  laughed  quietly.    "  I  can't  give  you  my  word 


SENOR   DEL    HERVALLE  101 

as  you  request  and  I  can't  credit  any  assurance  you  '11 
give  me.  Besides,  my  country  would  hold  me  culpa- 
ble if  I  entered  into  any  such  agreement  which  left 
a  map  of  one  of  her  fortresses  in  the  hands  of  a 
possible  enemy." 

"  Then  I  regret  that  your  longing  to  see  it  must 
remain  unsatisfied." 

He  gathered  his  stick  and  hat  to  go. 

"  I  must  take  my  departure.  I  do  not  think 
you  're  an  ordinary  mercenary  spy,"  stated  he,  "  and 
you  're  young.  Therefore  I  give  you  fair  warning 
that  I  feel  at  liberty  to  use  whatever  means  I  think 
best  to  recover  the  map.  Before  resorting  to  final 
measures,  I  came  here  to  put  the  matter  to  you  a 
last  time." 

"  I  can't  accommodate  you,  Baron." 

"  Then  I  '11  bid  you  good  morning." 

I  rose,  laying  a  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Come,  come,  Baron,  don't  rush  off.  No  doubt 
you  find  the  village  inn  difficult  and  I  've  a  good 
cook  here  in  the  person  of  my  servant  Andrew. 
You  can  hear  him  clatter  dishes  now;  remain  and 
we  shall  eat  here  on  the  veranda.  You  also  un- 
doubtedly grow  weary  for  company;  let  us  declare 
neutrality  for  a  time  and  enjoy  luncheon  together, 
temporarily  dismiss  the  subject  of  the  map,  and 
enjoy  ourselves." 

At  this  he  made  no  effort  to  conceal  his  sur- 
prise. For  a  time  he  remained  silent,  then  a 
smile  gradually  broke  over  his  face,  his  blue  eyes 


102  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

shone,  while  he  put  down  his  hat  to  extend  his 
hand. 

1  You  Americans  are  irresistible.  Even  if  you 
betray  me  afterwards  to  France,  I  '11  stay  to  lunch 
with  you." 

"  I  'm  not  such  a  rogue  as  you  suspect,  Baron, 
and  now  for  a  glass  from  the  tankard.  It  holds 
something  we  both  want." 

"  One  thing  I  'm  sure,  at  least,  it 's  not  Dutch 
courage,  Woodworth." 

Neither  of  us  again  made  reference  to  the  map, 
confining  ourselves  to  general  topics.  The  Baron 
proved  an  agreeable  companion;  he  had  traveled 
much  and  during  the  meal  regaled  me  with  several 
of  his  adventures  in  East  Africa,  Brazil,  and  Tur- 
key. Of  his  business  in  America,  or  for  that  matter 
of  his  business  anywhere,  I  never  so  much  as  got 
an  inkling;  he  dexterously  steered  away  from  that 
reef,  leaving  me  to  infer  he  was  a  gentleman  of 
means  and  leisure.  But  one  thing  struck  me  as  note- 
worthy —  the  countries  of  which  he  spoke  and  where 
he  had  traveled  were  those  particular  quarters  of 
the  world  where  Germany  had  secured  or  was  at 
present  endeavoring  to  create  a  "sphere  of  influ- 
ence." Was  he  an  agent  of  his  government?  If 
so,  what  was  he  doing  in  America?  Those  were 
questions  on  which  I  could  only  speculate. 

When  he  made  ready  to  return  to  the  village,  I 
decided  to  accompany  him.  Exercise  I  needed,  for 
I  had  not  left  the  Lodge  that  morning.  We  strolled 


SENOR   DEL   HERVALLE  103 

along  the  beach,  and  he  pointed  now  to  a  sea-shell, 
now  to  a  bunch  of  sea-weed,  describing  and  giving 
the  scientific  name  of  each  with  an  ease  born  of 
that  exact  and  unremitting  study  which  characterizes 
the  German  system  of  schools.  He  was  the  type  of 
purposeful  men  produced  by  the  Empire  who  per- 
ceiving the  crowded  condition  of  their  country  had 
set  themselves  resolutely  to  the  task  of  establishing 
colonies  and  of  placing  Germany  in  the  front  rank 
of  maritime  nations.  As  accurately  as  he  spoke  of 
a  floating  sea-urchin,  so  had  he  reviewed  the  condi- 
tions of  Turkey  and  Africa  where  he  had  traveled. 
And  now  here  he  was  stopping  in  this  little  village 
of  Lavouche  fully  resolved  to  obtain  the  map  which 
I  held.  Chance  had  shown  him  it;  he  would  not 
depart  so  long  as  there  was  a  possibility  of  gaining 
it.  I  experienced  a  premonition  of  coming  trouble, 
for  he  was  of  the  superior  type  of  foemen,  the  kind 
of  man  who  leads,  who  rises  to  any  emergency,  who 
does  not  take  defeat  for  an  answer.  Del  Hervalle 
alone  was  enough  under  ordinary  circumstances  to 
furnish  me  sufficient  occupation;  now  to  have  the 
Baron  planning  an  assault  from  a  still  different 
direction  made  the  future  look  dubious. 

In  the  inn  the  Baron  left  me  to  go  to  his  room 
to  write  letters.  Therefore  I  pulled  up  a  chair  close 
to  the  window  where  madame  was  knitting.  But 
conversation  was  even  more  difficult  with  her  than 
usual,  so  lighting  my  pipe  I  gave  myself  up  to 
thought. 


104  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

My  mind  reverted  to  the  Baron,  from  whom  I 
had  just  parted,  for  just  what  he  would  initiate  in 
the  way  of  action  I  was  at  a  loss  to  anticipate. 
To  be  sure,  he  worked  under  a  disadvantage;  he 
was  an  alien  in  Lavouche,  without  friends,  without 
assistants,  and  with  his  purpose  known  to  me,  while 
on  the  other  hand  I  was,  so  to  speak,  in  my  home. 
He  would  hardly  dare  resort  to  force  unless  all  else 
failed  and  he  became  desperate,  and  then  it  would 
be  only  such  physical  measures  as  were  necessary 
temporarily  to  overcome  me.  He  was  not  a  pro- 
fessional thug;  my  life  would  not  be  in  danger. 
Ransack  my  house  he  might,  take  the  paper  by 
rascality  he  might,  if  he  could  lay  hands  upon  it; 
yet  neither  of  these  things  was  in  the  nature  of  the 
man,  and  something  indefinite,  intangible,  character- 
inferred,  convinced  me  that  when  he  acted  it  would 
be  along  another  line.  Such  means  were  too  petty, 
too  uncertain,  for  a  man  of  his  stamp.  In  harmony 
with  the  iron  system  which  pervaded  and  ruled  his 
country  and  moulded  on  hard  broad  lines  the  thought 
of  her  people,  whatever  plan  he  put  into  operation 
would  be  worthy  of  his  training,  complete,  prepared, 
machine-like,  executed  with  the  precision  of  an 
army  movement.  Altogether  a  different  man  was 
he  from  Del  Hervalle,  altogether  different  would 
be  his  operation.  From  the  Frenchman  I  could  ex- 
pect a  treacherous  attack,  a  blow  in  the  dark,  struck 
where  I  seemed  to  stand  in  greatest  safety  and  when 
no  foe  seemed  near;  such  had  always  been  the 


SEfrOR   DEL    HERVALLE  105 

man's  way  and  ia  a  measure  I  could  make  prepara- 
tion. How  Von  Hussman  would  go  about  his  work 
I  knew  not  and  in  consequence  was  at  a  loss  where 
to  expect  his  move. 

"  Madame,"  said  I  to  the  inn-woman,  "  how  do 
you  like  your  guest  ?  " 

"  Any  guest  is  well  liked  who  pays  well." 

"  He  pays  well,  then  ?  " 

"  The  score,  and  something  over."  Her  needles 
clicked  away,  and  the  yarn  twitched  in  the  stocking. 
"  Such  a  guest  may  stay  forever." 

"  He  's  well  behaved?  "  I  continued. 

"  Yes." 

"  He  does  n't  guzzle  with  Pilon  and  the  others, 
nor  kick  over  the  table,  nor  split  his  throat  shouting 
into  others'  ears,  nor  —  " 

"  Monsieur,"  she  interrupted  shortly,  "  you  jest." 

"  A  baron  could  not  of  course  do  such  things." 

For  one  minute  she  ceased  knitting. 

"Oh,  a  baron!" 

"  Your  roof  is  honored  to  that  extent." 

An  hour  passed  while  I  exchanged  light  talk  or 
indulged  in  reflection  which  yielded  no  particular 
result.  I  rose,  yawning,  and  stood  in  the  door. 
Should  I  return  home?  In  the  idle  fashion  which 
one  employs  when  in  a  state  of  indecision  or  indo- 
lence, I  glanced  at  the  sky,  at  the  cliff  which  walled 
the  upper  end  of  the  village,  at  the  doors  opposite, 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  street ;  none  of  these  afforded 
inspiration.  Then  I  paused.  Was  not  that  Del 


I06  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

Hervalle's  plump  little  figure  which  had  just  rounded 
the  corner  of  Gaspard's  boat-shop  and  which  now 
was  coming  briskly  forward?    Under  any  circum- 
stances the  movements  of  the  Frenchman  would 
have  interested  me;    at  this  time  when  I  was  ex- 
pecting some  line  of  action  pointing  towards  re- 
covery of  the  map  I  was  more  than  interested  —  I 
was  eager.     So  I  drew  back  into  the  inn,  where 
remaining  in  the  shadow  of  the  door  I  awaited  his 
approach  in  order  to  determine  on  what  special  mis- 
sion he  was  now  engaged.    Nothing  which  he  did 
was  idle ;  everything  was  directed  to  an  end.    Pres- 
ently his  footsteps  sounded  on  the  rocky  pavement 
of  the  street;   he  swung  by  the  inn  without  pause. 
I  put  an  eye  about  the  lintel  and  saw  his  plump 
figure  halt  before  the  next  door,  where  casting  a 
sharp  look  about  he  entered. 

"  I  think  it 's  that  noisy  fellow  Pilon  who  lives 
beside  you,  is  n't  it?  "  I  inquired  of  madame.  She 
nodded  and  continued  her  knitting. 

What  had  the  Frenchman  in  common  with  his 
rough  compatriot?  Where  had  they  made  acquaint 
ance  and  what  was  the  occasion  of  this  visit? 
stepped  into  the  street  and  advanced  until  I  stood 
before  the  house  into  which  the  man  had  entered. 
The  door  stood  ajar.  I  drew  near  and  listened ; 
no  sound  came  from  within.  Retreating  a  few 
paces,  I  surveyed  the  face  of  the  structure  to  observe 
if  I  were  watched,  but  no  eye  was  at  window.  There 
was  little  to  distinguish  the  house  from  its  neigh- 


SENOR   DEL   HERVALLE  107 

bor  on  either  side,  or  indeed  from  any  of  the  dwell- 
ings along  the  street ;  the  inn  flanked  it  on  the  left, 
the  house  which  contained  Martin  Dellar's  mer- 
chandise store  on  the  right,  and  its  chief  distin- 
guishing feature  was  the  dilapidated  roof  sagging 
slightly  inward  from  age  and  want  of  repair.  It 
had  stood  empty  for  some  time,  ever  since  Mosette, 
its  owner,  had  died,  and  until  the  three  vagabond 
French  sailors  took  possession.  A  window  stood  in 
the  wall  beside  the  door;  in  the  story  above,  a  pair 
of  them ;  and  finally  at  the  top  two  dormer  windows 
projected  from  the  roof.  In  other  respects  the  wall 
was  blank,  except  for  a  pattern  of  panels  built  in 
wood  over  the  higher  half. 

Adventure  was  on  me.  I  looked  up  the  street 
and  down,  then  finally  at  the  windows  again ;  noth- 
ing was  to  be  seen,  the  house  was  still.  With  a 
light  step  I  reached  the  door  and  entered.  The 
square  room  was  empty.  Casting  a  rapid  glance 
about,  at  the  cold  fireplace,  at  the  furniture  which 
comprised  only  a  table  and  stools,  and  at  the  litter 
of  crusts,  burnt  matches,  and  empty  wine  flasks 
strewn  over  the  floor  (Pilon  and  his  companions 
lived  not  tidily)  and  at  the  stone  staircase  rising 
along  the  wall,  I  stole  to  the  door  of  the  inner  room, 
which  I  found  empty. 

I  returned  to  the  stair.  Apparently  the  three 
sailors  dwelt  on  the  floor  above,  and  thither  Del 
Hervalle  had  taken  himself  straight  as  one  who  was 
a  familiar  acquaintance.  Listen  as  I  would,  I  could 


io8  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

distinguish  no  sounds  which  indicated  the  presence 
of  human  occupants.  To  seek  higher  would  be  the 
height  of  imprudence,  but  I  itched  to  go  upward ;  the 
steps  were  stone,  there  would  be  no  creak  to  betray 
me.  Noise  of  a  door  opening  above  saved  me  from 
this  folly  just  at  the  instant  when  I  had  cast  fear 
to  the  winds  and  placed  foot  on  the  first  step.  Now 
I  could  hear  voices ;  Del  Hervalle  speaking  in  rapid 
incisive  tones,  Pilon's  heavy  notes  answering;  and 
they  were  approaching  to  descend.  Risking  myself 
no  further,  I  moved  silently  to  the  door,  stepped 
into  the  street,  and  regained  the  shelter  of  the  inn- 
room.  My  little  expedition  had  produced  nothing 
except  to  ascertain  that  Mr.  Moore's  chief  guest  was 
on  terms  of  intimacy  with  Lavouche's  first  ruffian, 
certainly  a  relationship  of  which  no  good  could  come. 

Apparently  Pilon  did  not  leave  his  house,  for 
when  Del  Hervalle's  figure  darkened  the  tavern 
door  in  entering  he  was  alone.  I  bent  over  the 
table  at  which  I  sat,  simulating  study  of  an  old 
newspaper. 

"  A  good  afternoon,  madame,"  he  greeted  pleas- 
antly. "  You  knit  an  endless  stocking.  Behold,  is 
that  you,  Seiior  Charles  ?  " 

I  lifted  my  head.  "  Oh,  good  day,  sefior."  I 
folded  the  sheet.  "  You  're  touring  our  little 
village." 

"  Yes,  yes.  How  like  France !  It  is  unusual, 
unique,  a  preserved  antique  in  a  modern  setting. 
Are  you  making  your  way  home?" 


SENOR   DEL    HERVALLE  109 

"  Not  yet,  monsieur  —  or  sefior  —  which  is  it?  " 

He  smiled,  beaming.  "  What  a  joker !  And  you 
are  not  joining  me?  " 

"  Well,  no,  my  house  is  dull." 

"  We  must  liven  it,"  said  he.  "  I  compliment 
you,  madame,  upon  your  industry.  Heaven  will 
some  day  give  you  a  great  reward." 

"  Heaven  knows  nothing  of  stockings,"  answered 
madame. 

"  We  're  taught  that  Heaven  knows  everything," 
Del  Hervalle  replied.  "  Not  so,  my  young  friend 
Charles?" 

"  Truly,  sefior,  but  you  have  meditated  the  fact 
carefully  ?  " 

"  Often,  often,  but  there  is  the  consolation,  so 
great,  so  satisfying,"  he  spread  his  hands  in  one 
of  his  expressive  gestures,  "  that  Heaven  never 
speaks  what  it  knows."  He  cast  his  eyes  upward, 
then  let  them  fall  easily.  "  You  're  not  then  join- 
ing me?  " 

This  was  the  third  time  he  had  asked  the  question. 

"  No,  sefior,"  I  replied. 

After  he  had  gone,  I  recalled  the  peculiar  in- 
sistence of  his  inquiry.  Was  there  any  particular 
reason  why  he  pressed  the  question?  Would  he 
dare  — 

I  sprang  up.  Surely  he  would  not  attempt  such 
a  move.  But  a  strange  uneasiness  pervaded  me.  I 
walked  to  the  door,  where  staring  down  the  street 
I  observed  him  walking  in  no  great  haste,  swinging 


no  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

his  walking  stick  as  if  his  mind  were  entirely  free 
from  thought;  and  I  returned  to  the  table.  But 
the  old  journal  was  not  read  by  me,  though  I  gazed 
at  it  intently  for  five  minutes.  I  could  not  shake 
off  my  cloak  of  apprehension;  the  recollection  of 
his  tone  when  last  he  asked  me  if  I  were  joining 
him,  the  actual  though  faint  hint  of  eagerness  which 
I  recalled  in  the  question,  came  again  and  again 
to  impinge  upon  my  mind,  until  at  last  I  stood  up 
decided  in  my  intention.  I  would  take  no  risks, 
I  would  make  sure,  I  would  go  home. 

Turning  off  from  the  beach  where  the  bluff  ended 
in  a  slope,  I  pursued  through  the  wood  the  road 
which  he  must  have  taken  to  reach  Moore  House. 
Ahead  of  me  I  saw  nothing  of  him,  but  that  was 
to  be  expected  since  he  had  sufficient  start  to  reach 
his  destination  before  I  came  in  eye-shot.  Then  as 
I  paused  at  the  path  which  ran  southward  from  the 
road  to  my  house,  I  beheld  coming  towards  me  Mr. 
Moore's  servant  who  had  assisted  at  my  capture  the 
previous  night. 

"  Is  Senor  Del  Hervalle  at  home?  "  I  inquired. 

"  No,  Mr.  Wood  worth.  He  went  out  an  hour 
ago  and  has  n't  yet  returned." 

"  In  the  village,  I  suppose?  "  I  asked. 

"  Probably,  sir." 

"  What  is  your  name?  "  I  asked. 

"  Stevens,  sir." 

"  Well,  Stevens,  you  've  caught  no  more  burglars, 
have  you  ?  " 


SENOR   DEL   HERVALLE  in 

"  Not  yet,  sir,"  he  grinned. 

"  Keep  an  eye  open." 

"  I  will,  Mr.  Woodworth."  He  regarded  me  as 
if  to  speak  further. 

"What  is  it,  Stevens?" 

"  Well,  sir,  if  it  does  n't  seem  presumptuous,  I 
wished  to  say  that  Miss  Betty  had  me  on  one  side 
and  asked  me  all  about  the  affair  last  night." 

"And  you  told  her?" 

"  I  could  n't  very  well  avoid  it,  sir ;  generally  I 
can  lie  as  comfortably  as  the  next,  but  when  her 
blue  eyes  are  on  me  I  can't  tell  anything  but  the 
truth." 

"  Then  she  knows  Senor  Del  Hervalle  recog- 
nized me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

I  considered  a  moment.  "It  really  doesn't 
matter." 

"  The  curious  fact  was,  sir,  she  too  ordered  me 
to  say  nothing  about  it,  as  you  had  done." 

Did  Betty  suspect  her  guest?  That  would  truly 
add  excitement  to  the  situation.  A  pair  of  sharp 
eyes  were  in  her  head,  and  if  her  suspicions  were 
once  aroused  she  would  use  them.  Well,  those  eyes 
might  prove  of  valuable  assistance. 

It  did  not  take  me  long  to  reach  home.  Asking 
myself  if  the  Frenchman  believing  he  might  make 
a  search  in  my  absence  had  ventured  here,  I  made 
my  way  over  the  turf  of  the  lawn  and  around  the 
front  of  the  Lodge. 


ii2  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

My  mental  intimations  had  been  right!  I  heard 
his  voice  addressing  my  servant. 

"  He  is  attempting  to  cajole  Andrew  into  giving 
up  the  map,"  I  surmised. 

That,  as  I  discovered  when  I  came  in  line  with 
a  window  of  the  long  room,  was  putting  the  case 
mildly.  Cajole  it  might  have  been,  if  such  an  ex- 
pression may  be  used  to  describe  the  action  of  one 
man  backing  another  against  a  wall  at  the  point  of 
a  pistol.  Thus  Del  Hervalle  besieged  Andrew. 

"  You  must  tell  me  where  is  the  map,  my  man," 
the  Frenchman  was  saying  smoothly,  "  or  this  pistol 
will  go  off." 

Andrew  was  frightened.  His  usually  ruddy 
cheeks  were  colorless ;  it  may  have  been  imagination 
on  my  part,  but  it  seemed  as  if  his  fluffy  white  hair 
stiffened  and  sought  to  stand  on  end.  Back  to  the 
wall,  hands  raised  above  his  head,  he  trembled 
violently. 

"  You  may  shoot  me,  sir,"  he  quavered,  "  but  I 
will  never  betray  Master  Charles." 

"  Would  you  let  a  paper  stand  between  you  and 
death?" 

My  servant  moistened  his  lips  and  opened  them 
twice  before  any  sound  issued. 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  served  his  grandfather  and  his  father 
and  now  Master  Charles.  I  will  not  betray  his 
secret.  I  am  an  old  man  who  is  not  afraid  to  die." 

Good  old  Andrew!  He  would  be  loyal  even  unto 
death  —  and  if  he  died,  there  would  be  another  die 


SENOR   DEL   HERVALLE  113 

also  in  the  person  of  Del  Hervalle.  I  had  slipped 
off  my  foot  gear ;  so,  carrying  my  shoes  in  one  hand 
and  revolver  cocked  in  the  other,  I  crept  to  the  door. 
Andrew,  who  might  have  seen  me,  was  however 
too  fascinated  by  the  muzzle  of  the  weapon  before 
his  eyes;  the  Frenchman  was  unaware  of  my  pres- 
ence, for  his  fat  smooth  back  was  towards  me.  I 
drew  a  bead  at  the  spot  where  his  heart  —  if  he  had 
one,  though  I  doubted  it  —  should  be ;  my  finger 
was  just  closing  on  the  trigger,  when  he  stepped 
back,  lowering  his  own  weapon  and  uttering  an 
exclamation  of  disappointment. 

"  You  're  not  yet  dead,  my  man,"  said  he.  "  I 
see  you  're  one  of  those  foolish  fellows  who  would 
really  die  for  an  absurd  idea  of  duty." 

"  I  would  die,  sir,  for  Master  Charles." 

"  Eh,  so.  Now  get  me  a  glass  of  wine.  Though 
you  have  annoyed  me,  I  shall  be  generous.  I  will 
spare  you." 

Andrew  was  not  yet  done. 

"  Sir,  I  only  serve  wine  to  Master  Charles' 
friends." 

"  Quite  right,  Andrew,"  I  said,  entering  the  room, 
"  and,  Sefior  Del  Hervalle,  I  '11  be  obliged  if  you  will 
place  that  pistol  on  the  table.  No  tricks,  if  you 
please  —  I  have  you  covered." 

The  Frenchman  did  as  I  ordered,  while  a  little 
smile  played  upon  his  lips. 

"  I  perceive  that  you  decided  to  come  home  after 
all,"  he  said. 


i '4  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"Yes,  and  I  find  the  house  not  so  dull  as  I 
thought  Help  the  gentleman  to  some  wine,  An- 
drew, as  he  requests;  he  appears  fond  of  the  flavor  " 
And  taking  a  step,  I  pocketed  his  pistol 

Senor  Del  Hervalle  accepted  the  glass  of  sherry 
sipped  it,  and  held  it  to  the  light. 

"  It  is  excellent,"  he  announced. 


CHAPTER   VII 

STRATEGY   INTRODUCED   UPON   AN   ISLAND 

Two  days  passed  without  particular  event.  I 
idled  about  the  Lodge,  I  spent  an  hour  each  after- 
noon at  Moore  House  and  once  took  Muriel  Nesbit 
for  a  sail.  Her  conversation  was  always  amusing 
and  original,  and  it  was  doubly  so  when  she  rode 
between  the  two  perils  of  sunburn  and  what  she 
not  being  used  to  water  conceived  to  be  exhilar- 
ating adventure.  Her  speech  finally  came  round 
to  Davis. 

"  He  moves  like  a  tongueless  creature,"  she  de- 
clared, "  and  makes  me  shudder.  And  once  —  I 
pledge  you  to  secrecy !  —  he  tried  to  make  love  to 
me  and  once  to  Betty,  but  in  such  a  way  that  we 
could  n't  take  offense.  Betty  and  I  compare  notes, 
you  know." 

"  Always  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Even  about  you,  but  you  don't  do  much  that 's 
interesting." 

"  I  '11  improve  at  once,"  and  I  laid  my  hand  over 
hers. 

She  snatched  it  away. 

"  Charles  Woodworth,  when  I  have  love  made 
to. me  I  want  it  in  dead  earnest  —  and  you  are  head 


n6  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

over  heels  in  love  with  Betty.  If  you  want  to  prac- 
tice on  me  -—  Oh !  that  wave  will  drown  us !  —  as 
a  sort  of  understudy  in  preparation  for  the  address 
you  shall  make  to  Betty,  I  '11  oblige  you.  I  '11  let 
my  fingers  trail  in  the  water,  like  the  sentimental 
ladies  in  pictures,  only  there  are  no  swans  about, 
and  cast  my  eyes  down  mournfully  —  "  She  uttered 
a  suppressed  scream,  then  said  angrily,  "  How  dare 
you!  You  turned  the  tiller  purposely  and  wet  my 
sleeve  to  the  elbow." 

"I  couldn't  help  it,  I  really  couldn't,"  I  said, 
"  your  acting  distracted  me." 

"  Then  we  '11  have  no  more  of  it.  You  're  not 
to  be  trusted.  As  I  was  saying —  My,  what  a 
slap  that  wave  gave !  Mr.  Davis  makes  me  shudder. 
He  says  he  's  an  American,  but  I  don't  believe  it. 
He  speaks  half  a  dozen  languages,  all  fluently,  and 
there  's  something  about  him  that  is  foreign.  He  's 
not  an  American,  I  '11  bet  a  dollar,"  she  continued 
slangily ;  "  then  he  always  keeps  his  eyes  on  one 
until  one  grows  uncomfortable." 

"  If  he  annoys  you  or  Betty,  I  '11  take  him  in 
hand." 

"  Be  careful ;  he  hates  you,  I  know  it." 

"  Perhaps  he  has  reason  to,"  I  grinned,  remem- 
bering the  fright  which  I  had  given  him. 

"  When  your  name  is  mentioned,  his  eyes  grow 
positively  ugly." 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  I  Ve  anything  to  fear.  And 
as  I  said,  I  '11  see  that  he  does  n't  annoy  you." 


H7 

The  occasion  arose  that  very  afternoon  to  put 
into  effect  my  championship.  We  had  landed  and 
were  ascending  the  path,  when  my  companion  darted 
forward  to  a  copse  which  stood  on  the  turf  to  gather 
a  cluster  of  bluebells.  The  clump  of  bushes  was 
small,  perhaps  ten  feet  across,  and  as  I  followed 
her  we  were  both  immediately  apprised  by  voices 
engaged  in  conversation  of  the  presence  of  others 
not  visible. 

"  You  treat  me  with  scant  regard,"  said  one,  which 
I  recognized  as  Davis's. 

It  was  Betty  who  answered.  "  You  can  find  no 
fault  with  the  treatment  you  have  received  as  a 
guest  at  Moore  House." 

"  No>  no.  But  it  is  something  more  than  fhat 
I  want.  Perhaps  because  I  am  only  Senor  Del 
Hervalle's  secretary,  I  should  preserve  silence.  Yet 
I  cannot.  You  have  given  me  encouragement  to 
believe  —  " 

"Mr.  Davis!" 

"  It  is  true,  or  I  would  not  now  presume  to  make 
any  advances.  We  need  not  let  others  know;  see, 
you  are  interested.  I  know  you  are  aboye  the 
littleness  of  conventions.  You  are  a  woman  of 
experience." 

At  this  point  I  marched  around  the  bush.  Like 
a  true  comrade,  Muriel  followed  at  my  heels  —  "  to 
see  the  fun,"  as  she  afterwards  expressed  it. 

"  You  Ve  said  too  much,  Mr.  Davis,  and  I  don't 
like  your  insinuations  as  to  this  lady's  disposition," 


n8  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

I  stated  sternly.     "Let  this  be  the  last  time  you 
speak  to  her  except  on  common  topics." 

He  drew  back  a  step.  The  natural  pallor  of  his 
cheek  increased  until  it  resembled  marble,  but  there 
was  a  venomous  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  By  what  right  —  "  he  began. 

Betty  interrupted  him  with  a  wave  of  her  hand. 

"  Leave  this  to  me,  Mr.  Davis,"  she  said.  Then 
turning,  "  You  're  taking  a  great  deal  upon  yourself, 
Mr.  Woodworth,  to  intrude  here  without  my  express 
invitation.  What  Mr.  Davis  says,  or  does  n't  say, 
concerns  you  not  the  least  in  the  world."  And  her 
eyes  flashed  many  lightnings. 

"  I  think  it  does,"  I  answered. 

"Pray  how?" 

"  Well,  for  one  reason  because  I  'm  going  to 
marry  you  shortly." 

She  stared;  then  a  look  of  scorn  grew  on  her 
face. 

"  Indeed !  Kindly  state  that  again.  You  're  going 
to  what?" 

"  Exactly  what  I  said  —  marry  you.  You  may 
not  be  perfectly  aware  of  it  as  yet,  but  such  is  the 
case.  Therefore  I  give  this  gentleman  due  warning 
that  I  '11  administer  such  punishment  as  I  think 
necessary  if  I  discover  him  making  any  more  im- 
pertinent proposals."  I  stepped  forward.  "  We  '11 
return  to  the  house."  And  taking  her  hand  and 
placing  it  upon  my  arm,  I  started  up  the  slope. 

She  did  not  resist;   she  moved  by  my  side  as  in 


STRATEGY   UPON    AN    ISLAND      119 

a  dream,  until  we  reached  the  portico.  Then  she 
whirled  upon  me  with  eyes  burning  like  hot  sap- 
phires. "  I  hate  you,  hate  you !  "  she  exclaimed  in 
a  fury  of  passion.  "  You  are  contemptible !  I  shall 
listen  to  Mr.  Davis  whenever  I  please  —  and  I  shall 
please  very  often!  I  never  want  to  speak  to  you 
again,  or  see  you!  If  you  dare  to  molest  me  in  the 
future,  I  —  I  —  Oh,  how  I  hate  you !  " 

"Betty,"  I  replied  quietly,  "that  fellow's  a 
scoundrel." 

"Stop!" 

"  No,  I  've  not  finished  and  you  must  listen.  He 
is  a  slinking  scoundrel,  and  if  he  ever  insults  you 
again  by  veiled  allusions  I  '11  break  every  bone  in  his 
body.  I  need  not  tell  you  I  love  you  —  you  know 
it  and  have  known  it  for  years." 

Her  eyes  still  blazed.  Her  whole  lovely  person 
was  afire  with  anger  and  she  gripped  her  palms  until 
her  hands  were  white. 

"  Never  set  foot  here  again,  Charles  Woodworth." 

"  I  '11  have  to,  for  I  'm  going  to  marry  you." 

"  Marry  me !  "  she  choked.  "  I  'd  sooner  marry 
—  marry  Andrew ! "  with  which  she  turned  and 
vanished  in  the  house. 

I  gazed  at  the  door.  The  course  which  I  had 
planned  to  follow,  the  policy  of  determined  force, 
had  at  its  first  trial  produced  unexpected,  not  to  say, 
explosive  results.  Betty  was  very  lovely  in  a  rage; 
but  chance  of  winning  her  seemed  to  be  exceedingly 
remote,  to  twinkle  afar  off  and  grow  more  and  more 


120  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

dim  like  a  receding  star.    Try  as  I  would,  I  could 
not  somehow  hit  on  the  right  road  to  her  affections. 
A  voice  whispered  at  my  shoulder: 
"  That  was  grand !    Like  the  third  act  of  a  play !  " 
I  turned  about  and  found  Muriel,  face  aglow  with 
excitement.    "  And  how  you  did  put  down  that  man 
Davis!     There  he  goes  stealing  around  the  house. 
Charles  Woodworth,  I  '11  fall  in  love  with  you  my- 
self;  if  Betty  doesn't  want  you,  I'll  take  you." 
"  She  does  n't  want  me." 
"  She  does  n't  know  whether  she  does  or  not" 
"  Her  remarks  were  very  positive  on  the  subject." 
"  Positive   perhaps,   but   not   final  —  a   woman's 
never  are."    With  which  sage  bit  of  philosophy  she 
nodded  brightly  and  passed  within  the  house. 

"  This  has  been  a  deuce  of  an  afternoon.  I  '11 
go  down  and  see  if  Jean  is  at  home,"  I  thought. 
"  He  's  an  anchor  in  any  storm." 

So  off  I  set  along  the  road  to  Lavouche,  ponder- 
ing over  all  that  had  happened  since  I  came  to  the 
island.  If  I  had  sought  a  change  from  the  steady, 
uneventful  life  of  my  past  year  and  a  half,  I  could 
not  in  any  spot  on  earth  have  more  quickly  found 
it.  Quiet  old  Lavouche,  what  with  the  map  and 
what  with  Betty,  promised  to  keep  me  occupied  to 
the  utmost. 

Chance  threw  me  in  the  way  of  old  Gaspard, 
the  boat-maker.  Where  the  road  debouched  from 
the  wood  upon  the  sands,  a  hundred  yards  south 
of  the  village,  his  garden  was  situated  with  an 


STRATEGY    UPON    AN    ISLAND      121 

afternoon  exposure,  a  patch  of  rich  black  soil  per- 
haps fifty  feet  square.  The  little  old  fellow,  who 
had  been  bending  over  some  potato  vines,  concluded 
his  inspection  and  hailed  me  shrilly. 

"  Aha,  Charles,  what  is  this  I  hear  of  you  ?  "  he 
cried. 

"  I  can  never  guess,  Gaspard." 

"  Come  sit  on  this  log,"  he  answered,  pointing 
to  a  fallen  tree,  "  and  I  will  tell  you  the  report  cer- 
tain evil  persons  are  spreading  about." 

Nothing  more  was  needed  to  enlist  my  interest; 
and  Gaspard,  if  anybody  in  Lavouche,  knew  what 
was  being  gossiped  and  what  contrived  in  the  village. 
He  folded  his  spectacles  and  began  his  story. 

It  appeared  that  the  three  vagabond  sailors,  Pilon, 
Descarte,  and  Esper,  had  been  talking  loudly  in  the 
inn  over  their  wine  and  into  the  ears  of  any  one 
who  would  listen,  talking  that  I  was  in  possession 
of  one  of  beloved  France's  maps,  a  secret  map  of 
one  of  her  fortresses  located  somewhere  on  the  east- 
ern boundary,  and  was  attempting  to  dispose  of  it 
to  her  enemy,  Germany.  No  one  believed  the  fel- 
lows, they  were  such  braggarts  and  liars,  and  be- 
sides it  was  well  known  that  Pilon  had  no  liking 
for  me;  but  nevertheless  (Gaspard  continued)  I  was 
acquainted  with  how  people  would  listen  to  any  idle 
gossip.  Therefore  it  would  be  well  to  go  to  the 
village  and  deny  that  I  had  any  such  map,  or  any 
map  at  all.  All  yesterday  afternoon  and  all  the 
previous  evening  the  scamps  had  talked  of  it  in- 


122  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

cessantly.  Jean  had  at  last  lifted  his  fist  against 
Pilon  and  threatened  to  crack  his  head,  then  they 
were  silent  for  a  while,  but  only  until  Jean  had 
gone  away.  Pilon  himself  had  visited  half  a  dozen 
houses  to  tell  the  tale  —  Jerome  the  merchant's, 
Surgon  the  major's,  who  was  also  the  oldest  fisher- 
man, yes,  and  others,  even  to  Gaspard  himself. 
Truly  it  was  necessary  to  prove  Pilon  a  liar  by 
going  to  the  village  and  proclaiming  that  I  had  no 
map. 

"  Good  Gaspard,"  I  rejoined,  "  I  have  no  map  of 
any  of  France's  forts,  but  it  does  happen  that  I 
have  a  map." 

The  old  man  rubbed  his  nose  and  eyed  me  in 
astonishment. 

"  How  comes  it,  Charles,  that  a  simple  young  man 
like  you  should  have  such  a  paper  ?  " 

"  Oh,  by  accident  entirely.  It 's  too  long  a  tale, 
but  I  can  assure  you  that  I  have  n't  the  least  in- 
tention in  the  world  of  harming  France.  I  have 
none  of  her  maps." 

'  Your  word  is  sufficient ;  it  will  end  these  fel- 
lows' babble." 

It  was  easy  to  ascribe  to  Pilon  the  source  of  his 
knowledge  and  the  inspirer  of  his  tale.  Sefior  Del 
Hervalle  had  not  made  his  visit  to  the  house  adjoin- 
ing the  inn  without  a  purpose  which  now  transpired ; 
he  sought  to  disarm  me  of  the  friendship  and  sup- 
port of  the  village,  so  that  when  he  should  be  ready 
to  measure  swords  with  me  I  must  stand  alone. 


STRATEGY   UPON   AN    ISLAND      123 

Gaspard  however  would  explain  that  I  had  nothing 
to  do  with  France,  either  for  or  against  her,  and 
since  the  fisherman  of  Lavouche  had  known  both 
my  father  and  me,  that  would  be  sufficient  to  coun- 
teract the  insidious  attack. 

But  in  this  regard  the  old  man  and  I  were  mis- 
taken in  our  easy  opinion.  Gaspard  went  immedi- 
ately to  the  village  and  set  himself  industriously  to 
work  to  counteract  the  tale  —  a  task  his  heart  was 
in,  as  he  had  a  full  subject  for  talk,  which  was  like 
wine  to  him,  and  had  in  addition  a  sharp  contempt 
for  Pilon  and  his  crew.  Indeed,  I  should  have 
known  better  than  to  permit  him  thus  to  venture 
forth  in  my  defense.  His  explanation  was  only  a 
half  explanation;  it  but  whetted  curiosity  the 
sharper.  Tongues  wagged,  voices  chattered,  old 
heads  nodded,  young  ones  doubted,  questions  flew. 
There  was  the  map!  If  not  one  of  France's  forts, 
whose?  How  had  I  got  it,  and  what  would  I  do 
with  it?  Since  I  had  told  Gaspard  so  much,  why 
not  more  ?  It  was  very  strange,  this  map.  And  was 
there  not  also  an  unknown  visitor  in  Lavouche, 
a  man  who  had  been  loitering  some  days?  What 
was  he  doing  here?  He  had  been  seen  to  go  to 
my  house ;  he  was  a  German,  an  enemy  of  France. 
What  should  I  have  to  do  with  him,  mon  Dieu,. 
yes,  more  particularly  when  I  had  a  map?  If  it 
were  a  harmless  map,  why  did  I  not  bring  it  to  the 
village  and  show  it  to  people  ?  Sons  did  not  always 
turn  out  as  honest  as  their  fathers,  no,  not  always. 


124  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

No  doubt  in  the  beginning  there  was  with  most 
of  them  no  intention  to  injure  me;  the  good  folk 
liked  argument  and  subjects  were  not  common: 
curiosity  was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  But  the  harm  lay 
in  continued  talk.  The  oftener  the  topic  was 
broached,  the  more  curious  the  people  grew,  and 
from  curiosity  to  doubt,  from  doubt  to  suspicion, 
is  an  easy  road.  And  at  last  overwhelmed  by  a 
hail  of  questions  old  Gaspard  could  not  make  any 
answer;  he  was  scoffed  at  for  carrying  only  half 
a  story,  and  angry,  baffled,  stammering  imprecations 
upon  Lavouche  for  its  stupidity  and  malice,  he  re- 
turned to  his  house  and  locked  the  door  against 
some  of  the  young  fellows  who,  admiring  and 
imitating  Pilon's  rough  jests,  followed  him  with 
jibes. 

All  this  I  learned  from  Andrew,  who  had  gone 
marketing  to  the  village  and  came  in  for  his  share 
of  attention.  They  had  not  got  anything  out  of 
him,  not  out  of  Andrew;  but  he  had  perceived 
what  was  going  on  up  and  down  the  streets  and 
at  doors,  and  he  had  lingered  so  as  to  bring  me  a 
full  account.  There  had  been  no  threats  against 
me  except  by  Pilon;  indeed  the  older  and  wiser 
heads  had  said,  "  Patience,  patience,  the  matter  will 
come  out ! "  But  the  village  was  nevertheless 
wrought  into  excitement,  and  there  were  murmur- 
ings  against  the  stranger,  the  German,  who  stopped 
at  the  inn  and  who  apparently  had  no  business 
except  with  me. 


STRATEGY    UPON    AN    ISLAND      125 

This  was  a  new  turn  of  affairs  that  made  me 
pause.  Del  Hervalle  had  struck,  struck  as  was  his 
manner  from  ambush.  He  appeared  nowhere  in  it 
and  yet  it  was  his  blow.  Still  I  did  not  look  for 
trouble  from  the  village,  as  they  were  peaceable 
men ;  but  my  situation  might  nevertheless  be  made 
uncomfortable.  Sentiment  for  the  country  from 
which  their  ancestors  had  come  was  yet  strong  in 
their  breasts ;  they  retained  its  speech  and  customs ; 
in  all  save  dwelling-place  they  were  still  French; 
and  to  assail  the  country  across  the  sea  was  in  a 
way  to  assail  them.  They  would  expect  this  mat- 
ter to  be  made  straight.  Cunning  Del  Hervalle! 
He  had  seized  the  one  point  of  weakness  in  my 
position  and  made  it  an  advantage  to  himself.  In 
Pilon  he  had  found  a  ready  and  handy  tool,  exactly 
the  one  needed  for  his  purpose,  a  fellow  not  troubled 
with  scruples,  sufficiently  bold  and  rough  and,  what 
was  more,  already  hating  me.  What  should  I  do? 
The  village  would  be  none  the  wiser  if  I  spread 
the  map  before  its  eyes,  while  on  the  other  hand 
to  say  that  I  did  not  know  what  fortress  it  repre- 
sented would  only  be  adding  fuel  to  the  fire.  Yes, 
cunning  Del  Hervalle,  he  had  tied  my  hands  and 
tongue. 

Then  a  graver  doubt  entered  my  mind.  The 
little  Frenchman's  plots  were  never  simple;  on  the 
contrary,  they  were  generally  complex.  Had  he 
a  deeper  motive  under  all  this  than  merely  that  of 
securing  the  map?  To  be  sure,  the  latter  would  be 


126  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

valuable  in  his  hands  and  he  would  not  lightly 
abandon  his  effort  to  obtain  it;  but  was  he  laying 
the  foundation  of  a  more  sinister  scheme?  My 
presence  threatened  his  security,  my  knowledge  of 
his  past  was  too  dangerous  to  allow  him  to  rest  in 
peace,  even  though  it  seemed  I  could  make  no  use 
of  it,  for  some  turn  of  the  wheel,  some  veering  of 
the  wind  of  fortune,  might  give  me  the  necessary 
advantage.  Other  witnesses  to  his  guilty  work  at 
Forge  were  alive,  Maitland,  Ethys,  Mr.  Fenton,  and 
with  these  to  support  my  accusations,  and  with  the 
influence  which  Mr.  Fenton,  a  power  in  New  York, 
a  man  respected  in  Washington,  could  wield,  Sefior 
Del  Hervalle  as  a  distinguished  envoy  and  a  gentle- 
man of  honorable  position  would  be  unmasked  be- 
fore the  world  and  ruined  in  his  usefulness  to 
Castro.  I  sat  up  gripping  the  arm  of  my  chair. 
As  D'Urville  at  Forge,  my  antagonist  had  not  halted 
at  hal f -measures ;  as  Del  Hervalle  at  Lavouche, 
would  he  be  any  the  more  likely  to  do  so?  Did  he 
plot  to  forestall  me,  to  render  me  helpless  before  I 
could  act,  to  condemn  me  in  the  sight  of  Lavouche, 
to  end  my  friendship  with  the  Moores  and  thus 
make  any  accusations  which  I  should  bring  against 
him  futile  because  of  my  own  apparent  double- 
dealing  and  treachery?  Would  he  entangle  me  in 
disgrace ! 

With  the  realization  that  1  alone  could  not  bring 
him  to  justice  I  sat  down  and  wrote  Jack  Maitland 
the  full  particulars  of  what  had  happened  and  what 


STRATEGY   UPON   AN    ISLAND      127 

I  suspected  for  the  future.  If  I  knew  anything  of 
Jack,  or  of  Mr.  Fenton  either,  they  were  men  who 
would  not  let  business  stand  in  their  way  of  coming 
to  Lavouche.  They  were  fighters.  And  the  score  of 
D'Urville's  crimes  at  Forge  was  not  yet  paid!  It 
was  with  a  comforting  sense  of  satisfaction,  of  pro- 
vision for  the  morrow,  that  I  signed  and  sealed 
my  narrative.  The  demand  for  their  presence  I  had 
made  strong,  stronger  because  of  D'Urville's  prob- 
able future  claim  of  immunity  on  the  ground  of 
being  a  special  ambassador.  Under  such  a  cloak 
he  could  hope  to  contrive  and  plot  and  act  un- 
checked; any  assault  upon  him  would  become  an 
international  affair.  Single-handed  I  was  helpless, 
so  I  urged  haste,  haste;  D'Urville  could  be  quick 
—  therefore  haste  was  imperative. 

The  letter  I  locked  in  a  drawer.  I  would  entrust 
it  to  Jean,  loyal  Jean,  who  should  carry  it  with  his 
own  hand  to  the  railroad  station  and  with  his  own 
hand  place  it  abroad  a  train.  A  wire  dispatched  at 
the  same  time  would  give  Jack  warning  of  the 
letter's  coming.  Thus  I  laid  my  plans.  I  even 
wrote  out  the  telegram : 

D'Urville  is  here  with  Moore  as  Hervalle  envoy  from 
Venezuela.  Plotting  to  finish  me.  Letter  follows. 

WOODWORTH. 

Others  beside  the  villagers  of  Lavouche  were 
interested  in  my  affair.  At  supper  I  learned  that 
Andrew  on  his  return  from  the  village  and  with 


128  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

the  marketing  basket  on  his  arm  had  met  Betty 
in  the  wood.  She  evinced  a  desire  for  conversa- 
tion, of  which  the  subject  was  nothing  less  than 
myself. 

"  And  on  what  point  did  she  display  her  interest  ?  " 

"  She  asked  if  you  had  known  Senor  Del  Her- 
valle  before  coming  to  Lavouche,  and  as  you  had 
told  me  to  say  nothing  to  any  one,  Master  Charles, 
I  answered,  *  No,  Miss  Betty,  not  to  my  knowledge ! ' 
Then  she  looked  at  me  and  said,  *  Andrew,  you  're 
not  a  very  good  villain  and  you  're  not  accustomed 
to  lying,  for  your  face  has  turned  red.'  Then  I 
grew  redder  than  ever,  for  I  had  been  discovered 
in  what  I  believed  I  should  never  be  guilty  of  to 
a  lady.  She  continued,  '  I  see  now  that  Mr.  Wood- 
worth  and  Senor  Del  Hervalle  have  met  in  other 
circumstances.  Tell  me,  Andrew,  how  is  it  that 
Mr.  Woodworth  seems  changed ! '  I  replied,  '  In 
one  thing,  Miss  Betty,  he  will  never  change  so  long 
as  he  lives  and  that  is  in  his  love  for  you ! ' 

I  laid  down  my  fork.  "  Andrew,  don't  you  think 
I  'm  capable  of  conducting  my  own  love  affairs  ?  " 
I  inquired. 

"  You  are  very  slow,  I  think,  Master  Charles," 
was  the  imperturbable  response. 

"The  devil  I  am!" 

"  Yes,  sir.  So  I  followed  a  bit  of  advice  your 
father  once  gave  me,  namely,  to  speak  a  good  word 
whenever  the  opportunity  arose,  even  to  a  man 
to  whom  you  owe  money.  I  remember  how  in 


STRATEGY   UPON    AN    ISLAND      129 

particular  he  laid  emphasis  on  that  phrase  '  even 
to  a  man  to  whom  you  owe  money,'  and  Miss  Betty 
is  much  more  than  that." 

The  aphorisms  inlaid  in  Andrew's  mind  by  my 
parent  were  as  silver  imbedded  in  steel;  they  were 
not  to  be  removed. 

"  Continue,"  said  I. 

"  She  inquired  of  me  what  I  knew  of  the  talk 
about  your  having  a  map  of  one  of  France's  forts. 
The  servants;  she  explained,  had  heard  the  accusa- 
tion in  the  village  and  were  gossiping  of  it  at 
Moore  House.  I  stated  that  I  was  not  in  your 
confidence  to  the  extent  of  knowing  what  particular 
forts  you  had  maps  of  or  how  many.  '  Master 
Charles'  father  often  had  very  important  papers  in 
his  possession,  Miss  Betty,  as  did  his  grandfather,' 
I  said.  '  It  would  only  be  natural  then  that  Master 
Charles  in  his  turn  should  have  such." 

I  leaned  back  and  laughed.  "  Next  time  Senor 
Del  Hervalle  calls  I  shall  turn  him  over  to  you. 
What  did  Betty  say?" 

"  For  a  while  she  did  n't  answer  but  stood  in 
thought  —  and  very  lovely  she  looked  —  then  she 
said,  '  Andrew,  you  must  keep  good  watch  over 
Charles ' ;  to  which  I  replied,  *  I  will,  Miss  Betty, 
though  in  his  great  passion  for  you  it  may  be  diffi- 
cult.' '  Is  he  very  terrible  when  he  is  thinking  of 
me  ? '  she  inquired.  So  I  thought  this  was  a  good 
opportunity,  Master  Charles,  to  advance  your  suit, 
and  I  rejoined,  '  Sometimes  he  is  distraught,  some- 


130  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

times  in  a  frenzy  fine,'  quoting  words  I  once  read  in 
a  book.  Indeed,  they  were  pointed  out  to  me  by 
your  father  in  this  very  room,  who  asked  if  I  had 
ever  experienced  similar  symptoms.  Miss  Betty 
laughed  and  said  she  must  be  going  home.  *  Say 
nothing  to  Charlie/  were  her  final  words.  But 
she  did  not  know  of  course  that  I  could  not  do 
that.  I  think  you  are  making  progress  in  her 
affections." 

"  It  would  seem  so,"  said  I. 

But  why  did  Betty  act  so  coldly  toward  me  to  my 
face,  only  to  take  an  interest  in  me  when  away? 
Or  was  it  only  the  interest  which  she  would  have 
shown  in  any  person?  Had  she  discovered  some- 
thing about  Del  Hervalle,  something  indefinite  which 
yet  had  aroused  her  suspicions  to  the  point  where 
she  believed  him  treacherous?  Possibly  she  had 
good  reason  to  think  that  I  was  in  danger. 

Though  the  sun  was  down,  night  held  off  and 
evening  was  not  yet  far  advanced.  The  air  was 
pleasant,  drawing  one  into  the  open;  and  made 
restless  by  my  thoughts  I  walked  down  to  the  water 
and  strolled  up  the  eastern  beach.  Before  me  the 
white  sand  stretched  until  it  disappeared  in  the 
curve  of  the  island;  on  the  inner  edge  the  wood 
bordered  it  with  a  dark  green  cover,  on  the  other 
spread  the  ocean,  swaying  in  long  sinuous  rolls  that 
glistened  beneath  the  light  which  yet  whitened 
heaven.  The  swells  traveling  in  across  the  water 
flooded  upon  the  rim  of  sands  with  low  insistent 


STRATEGY   UPON    AN    ISLAND      131 

music  like  that  of  an  immense  organ;  flecks  of 
foam  slipped  upward  upon  the  spreading  wave, 
paused,  and  glided  back  on  the  receding  water,  only 
to  be  caught  once  more  and  swept  forward.  A  few 
gulls  circled  and  soared  afar  out,  white  specks. 
Over  all  was  the  sense  of  immensity,  of  infinite 
distance. 

I  had  walked  perhaps  two  hundred  yards  when 
I  saw  Betty  coming  leisurely  towards  me.  Her  eyes 
were  lifted  to  mine  at  the  same  time  I  perceived  her; 
she  faltered  an  instant,  then  advanced.  After  our 
meeting  earlier  in  the  day  I  wondered  if,  nay,  ex- 
pected that  she  would  ignore  my  presence,  or  at 
best  give  me  but  cold  greeting.  In  this,  to  my  sur- 
prise, I  was  destined  to  be  pleasantly  disappointed; 
when  she  reached  the  spot  where  I  stood,  she  stopped 
and  fixed  her  gaze  upon  my  face. 

"  I  'm  about  to  turn  back,"  she  said.  "  Will  you 
walk  with  me  ?  I  've  something  to  say." 

Side  by  side  therefore  we  moved  up  the  beach. 
For  a  while  she  remained  silent  and  I  watched  her, 
waiting  for  whatever  statement  she  desired  to  make. 
Her  straight  lithe  figure  swung  lightly  and  easily 
forward ;  no  hat  was  on  her  head,  leaving  her  golden 
hair  uncovered;  the  curve  of  her  cheek  and  brow 
was  perfect.  Her  blue  eyes  I  did  not  see  until 
she  raised  them  from  the  sand  at  which  she  looked. 
Some  subject  engaged  her  mind,  that  was  plain,  for 
she  seemed  almost  oblivious  of  me  walking  by  her 
side,  and  the  fingers  of  her  hands  which  she  carried 


132  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE4 

clasped  behind  her  twisted  together  until  her  step 
grew  slower. 

"  Betty,"  I  addressed  her  finally,  "  if  it 's  my  silly 
work  of  this  afternoon  that  you  're  thinking  about, 
I  beg  your  pardon  a  hundred  times.  I  'm  a  fool 
and  am  just  beginning  to  learn  it." 

"  I  was  angry  at  you,  I  must  acknowledge,"  she 
remarked. 

"  You  had  every  right  to  be.  But  Davis  —  "  I 
stopped.  The  subject  would  not  be  improved  by 
bringing  his  name  into  our  conversation;  my  own 
fault  had  been  glaring  enough,  while  an  excuse 
would  only  make  things  worse. 

"  Well,  I  was  really  obliged  to  you  for  taking 
me  away  from  him,"  she  answered  smoothly. 

"  You  were !    By  Jove,  you  did  n't  show  it." 

"  It  was  a  comedy." 

"  Tragedy,  I  thought  it,  for  me,"  I  said. 

A  smile  dimpled  her  cheeks.  She  looked  up 
finally  and  laughed;  and  in  that  laugh  I  saw  that 
in  whatever  degree  I  had  transgressed  I  was  for- 
given. If  I  had  been  in  love  with  her  before  she 
went  away  to  Venezuela,  I  was  a  thousand  times 
more  so  now.  She  was  adorable,  I  longed  to  take 
her  in  my  arms  and  tell  her  so.  But  —  not  two. 
mistakes  in  the  same  afternoon! 

"  Charlie,"  she  said,  and  I  noted  that  her  face 
had  suddenly  grown  grave,  "  have  you  any  reason 
to  think  you  are  in  danger  ?  "  I  halted  in  my  tracks 
—  what  did  she  know  ?  "  It  seems  strange,  does  n't 


STRATEGY   UPON   AN    ISLAND      133 

it,"  she  continued,  "  that  here  on  this  quiet  island, 
on  quiet  Lavouche,  where  everything  has  been  peace- 
ful and  simple,  we  should  talk  of  danger.  It  does  n't 
seem  possible,  and  yet  —  yet  —  " 

"What  is  it,  Betty?"  " 

"  You  have  n't  answered  my  question  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  whether  or  not  I  'm  in 
danger,  but  I  have  enemies  here.  On  what  they 
do  depends  the  degree  of  danger." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  of  it?  " 

"  None  of  what  I  may  expect." 

Again  she  was  silent,  thinking.  Then  she  said 
quickly,  "  This  afternoon  I  met  Jean's  half-sister. 
She  stopped  me,  saying  she  wished  to  speak  to  me, 
and  this  was  her  message,  '  Tell  Mr.  Woodworth 
to  go  through  no  strange  doors  —  to  beware  strange 
doors.'  That  was  all.  I  sought  to  have  her  ex- 
plain, but  she  would  not.  You  know  what  an  odd 
dark  creature  she  is,  who  seems  to  have  no  intimate 
friends  and  to  move  through  the  life  of  Lavouche 
solitary  and  self-absorbed.  When  I  used  to  come 
here  as  a  little  girl,  I  was  always  afraid  of  her,  her 
black  luminous  eyes  and  strange  .dark  face;  and 
even  now  I  feel  a  queer  uncanny  feeling  when  I 
talk  with  her.  What  did  she  mean?  Why  did  she 
send  that  warning?  " 

"  Search  me,  Betty."  And  as  if  I  might  find  in 
them  some  explanation  of  the  sibyllic  message  I 
thrust  my  hands  into  my  pockets.  We  stared  at 
each  other. 


134  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  There  must  be  some  danger,"  she  said  with 
lowered  voice. 

It  was  not  extraordinary  that  my  thoughts  flew 
to  Del  Hervalle.  I  turned  and  gazed  up  the  beach 
toward  where  Moore  House  sat,  now  hidden  by  the 
wood;  if  there  were  danger  lying  in  wait  for  me,  the 
guest  at  yonder  house  was  the  one  to  know.  Betty's 
eyes  followed  mine  and  her  thoughts  as  well. 

"  I  've  something  more  to  tell  you,  Charlie,"  she 
began.  "  The  other  night  in  the  hall  when  you  ran 
through  the  house  and  came  back  and  we  were  all 
gathered  together,  I  remembered  a  curious  thing 
that  Ethys  Fenton  told  me  when  she  returned  from 
Forge.  You  know  what  happened  there.  One  day 
when  Jack  Maitland  was  awaiting  trial  by  the  miners 
he  crept  out  to  the  stable  where  he  heard  the  Scotch- 
man and  the  other  villain  talking  —  D'Urville,  was 
that  the  man's  name  ?  " 

"  D'Urville  is  right." 

"  This  machinist  D'Urville  was  asking  the  Scotch- 
man to  escape  with  him,  taking  the  gold.  And  Jack 
Maitland  heard  him  say  that  he  had  twice  been 
warned  by  the  scarf-pin  he  wore,  that  it  always 
worked  loose  when  he  was  threatened  by  danger. 
I  had  forgotten  all  about  it,  then  suddenly  it  popped 
into  my  head,  for  at  lunch  one  noon  Senor  Del 
Hervalle's  pin  was  loose,  and  some  one,  Muriel  I 
think,  called  his  attention  to  the  fact.  '  It  is  a 
warning,'  he  said  with  a  smile,  and  pushed  it  in. 
*  Whenever  anything  unfortunate  is  about  to  hap- 


STRATEGY   UPON    AN    ISLAND      135 

pen  to  me,  the  pin  comes  out.'  And  he  went  on 
with  other  talk.  Is  it  a  coincidence  that  two  men 
should  be  superstitious  about  the  same  thing,  or  is 
it  —  " 

"  The  same  man,  you  would  ask  ?  " 

"Could  such  a  thing  be  possible?"  She  stood 
rapt  in  contemplation  of  such  a  terrible  event.  "  And 
then,  when  I  mentioned  his  name,  you  remember, 
at  the  time  when  first  we  sailed  together,  you  grew 
so  excited  and  called  him  a  scoundrel  and  asked 
me  not  to  speak  of  you  to  him,  that  I  did  not  know 
what  to  think." 

It  was  half  an  inquiry;  her  face  was  a  full 
question. 

"  Well,  if  you  'd  like  to  have  your  doubts  put 
at  rest,  Betty,"  I  said  calmly,  "  I  can  assure  you 
that  Senor  Del  HervaMe  is  no  other  than  D'Urville; 
the  two  gentlemen  are  one  and  the  same.  Del 
Hervalle  —  D'Urville,  perhaps  you  '11  observe  a 
faint  resemblance  in  the  names.  Let  me  tell  you, 
the  resemblance  in  character  between  the  two  men 
is  vastly  more  striking  and  I  have  had  acquaintance 
with  both." 

Betty  was  almost  beyond  speech  with  astonish- 
ment. "  But  an  envoy  of  Venezuela ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  And  a  very  shrewd  one  too  he 's  made,  I  '11 
wager." 

"  Unbelievable  that  he  could  be  the  same 
man." 


136  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  Not  at  all  —  not  at  all,  not  when  you  come  to 
know  the  gentleman  as  I  do." 

"  It  seems  an  utter  —  "  She  stopped,  lips  parted, 
at  a  loss  to  continue. 

"  If  you  are  searching  for  big  words,"  said  I, 
"  it 's  no  help,  because  the  fact  nevertheless  remains. 
And  observe,  Betty,  I  am  asking  you  to  keep  this 
a  secret  —  can  you  keep  a  secret  ?  " 

"  Can  I !  You  don't  know  me,  Charlie  Wood- 
worth.  But  why?" 

"  For  the  simple  reason  I  want  to  keep  him  un- 
suspecting that  anybody  besides  himself  knows  this 
fact  until  Jack  Maitland  gets  here  —  I  have  written 
him  —  then  we  '11  light  the  fireworks." 

"  And  meanwhile  ?  " 

She  came  closer,  slipping  her  arm  into  mine  and 
looking  up  into  my  eyes. 

"  And  meanwhile  all  I  ask  is  that  you  walk  with 
me  once  in  a  while." 

There  was  no  answer.  We  moved  slowly  up  the 
beach  towards  Moore  House.  Night  was  descend- 
ing; the  light  had  gone  out  of  the  sky  while  we 
talked,  and  now  stars  were  beginning  to  twinkle, 
the  dark  velvety  surface  of  the  ocean  reflecting  them 
in  swinging  points  of  light.  A  cool  breeze  crept  up 
and  touched  our  cheeks  and  stirred  the  little  tendrils 
about  Betty's  brow;  in  the  wood  a  few  birds  were 
giving  their  last  calls  among  the  boughs ;  along  our 
path  the  water  curled  and  broke  and  spread  up- 
ward in  a  line  of  snowy  white.  Night  coming  down 


STRATEGY   UPON   AN   ISLAND      137 

upon  the  majestic  ocean,  night  setting  lamps  along 
the  sky,  how  inexpressibly  beautiful!  Little  won- 
der thought  of  maps  and  enemies  and  danger  van- 
ished from  my  mind.  A  light  hand  was  on  my 
arm,  the  girl  I  loved  was  by  my  side,  a  dream  of 
happiness  filled  the  world. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

A  DELEGATION    OF   FISHERMEN 

Pilon  had  at  last  won  the  prominence  in  the  vil- 
lage which  he  had  long  desired;  if  it  was  only 
temporary,  only  by  sufferance  of  the  more  sedate 
fishermen  who  knew  him  for  what  he  was  and  only 
because  there  was  a  mystery  in  his  accusation  which 
I  had  not  come  forward  to  remove,  it  was  none  the 
less  a  degree  of  prominence.  The  vanity  of  the 
man  therefore  fed  fat.  And  at  last  so  impatient 
did  he  become,  so  thoroughly  did  he  believe  himself 
to  have  intimidated  me,  so  confident  did  he  feel  that 
he,  Pilon,  was  the  prime  mover  in  this  affair,  that 
he  forgot  Del  Hervalle  and  conceived  the  brilliant 
notion  of  ending  all  mystery  by  taking  over  the  map 
into  his  own  care.  Thus  he  would  show  what  man- 
ner of  man  Pilon  was,  thus  he  would  reap  fresh 
honors  "  and  save  France."  Now,  in  all  likelihood, 
Pilon  had  escaped  from  Bordeaux  before  police 
hands  could  reach  out  and  take  him  in  the  par- 
ticular crime  he  chanced  to  be  engaged  in  at  the 
moment,  but  the  above  phrase  sounded  well  though 
it  meant  nothing  on  his  tongue.  He  would  have 
sold  France  for  two  sous  if  he  could  have  found  a 
buyer. 


A   DELEGATION    OF   FISHERMEN     139 

So  it  happened  therefore  next  morning,  while  I 
was  busy  overhauling  the  cat-boat  on  the  beach  and 
putting  a  touch  of  paint  here  and  there  on  her  bot- 
tom, that  the  man  appeared  before  me  with  this  new 
purpose  in  his  mind.  Dressed  in  overalls  and  an  old 
shirt  and  wearing  a  sou'wester  against  the  sun,  I  was 
assiduously  filling  a  crack  with  white  lead  when  his 
shadow  falling  athwart  the  little  craft  caused  me  to 
look  up. 

He  stared  at  me  insolently,  twirling  his  mous- 
tache. "  Here  you,  I  have  come  for  the  map,"  he 
said. 

Without  appearing  to  pay  further  attention  to 
him  I  continued  my  work.  Delicately  I  drew  the 
paint  brush  along  the  line,  paused  to  examine  the 
result,  then  dipped  the  brush  in  the  pail  and  repeated 
the  operation. 

"  Here  you,  look  here !  "  he  shouted. 

"  Oh,  you  're  there,  are  you  ?  "  I  answered,  rest- 
ing my  brush  and  straightening  up.  "  What  do 
you  want  ?  " 

He  glared,  twirling  his  moustache  furiously. 

"  For  the  map.  Come,  little  man,  you  're  keep- 
ing me  waiting  —  me,  Pilon." 

I  looked  him  over.  His  thick-set  figure  evidenced 
strength,  but  on  his  face  were  all  the  signs  of  brutal 
dissipation  which  betokened  that  strength  under- 
mined. No  doubt  in  his  native  city  he  had  been  one 
of  those  rough  fellows  who  constantly  make  trouble 
for  the  police,  who  jostle  respectable  people,  ter- 


140  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

rorize  weaklings,  and  bully  his  own  kind.  In  Paris 
he  would  have  developed  into  an  Apache,  but  he 
had  never  got  to  Paris  and  therefore  remained  a 
lazy,  intolerable  braggart.  He  it  was  who  had  let 
loose  the  story  concerning  my  betraying  France  — 
at  Del  Hervalle's  instigation  of  course.  Evidently 
he  expected  no  long  resistance.  I  would  provide  him 
matter  for  another  boastful  tale. 

"  I  am  very  busy  this  morning,  my  good  Pilon," 
I  said  quietly.  "  You  '11  have  to  come  another  time." 
And  I  fell  again  to  painting. 

"  Pilon  comes  but  once  and  asks  but  once.  Be 
quick!  Run  and  fetch  the  map." 

I  paused,  pretending  stupidity.  "  But  that  makes 
three  times  you  've  asked  for  it.'* 

"  Asked !    Pilon  orders." 

"  Ordered  then  —  three  times,  as  I  say." 

My  quietness  deceived  him,  which  was  my  pur- 
pose. He  came  nearer,  struck  a  pose  intended  to 
create  fear,  I  imagine ;  he  stood  with  feet  apart,  one 
thumb  hooked  in  his  belt,  a  threatening  look  upon 
his  face.  This  latter  I  returned  mildly. 

"  Will  you  go,  boy,  or  shall  Pilon  kick  you  to 
the  house  ?  " 

"  Did  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  send  you  ?  " 

"  Sefior  Del  Hervalle,  no.  I  "  —  he  tapped  his 
breast  —  "I  act  alone." 

I  believed  him.  The  envoy  had  not  guessed  how 
vigorously  the  seed  he  planted  would  thrive;  Del 
Hervalle  had  shrunk  in  the  fellow's  estimation  while 


A   DELEGATION    OF   FISHERMEN     141 

Pilon  had  grown.  I  filled  out  the  pause  by  drawing 
the  brush  along  the  seam. 

"  The  boat  should  be  finished  first,  monsieur,"  I 
considered  aloud,  "  so  that  the  sun  will  dry  the 
paint." 

"  Boat,  ha !  I  am  to  be  kept  waiting  for  a  boat, 
mon  Dieu! "  And  he  burst  into  a  peal  of  raucous 
laughter. 

"  I  fear  so." 

"  Pilon  to  wait  on  a  boat,  ha,  ha! "  He  reached 
forth  a  hand  and  seized  my  shoulder.  "  I  see  I 
must  kick  you  up  yonder,  after  all." 

As  he  clutched  me,  I  settled  myself  against  the 
bottom  of  the  little  craft,  planted  my  heels  in  the 
sand,  and  stiffened  my  body.  This  would  presently 
grow  amusing,  thought  I.  Pilon  pulled;  I  did  not 
budge.  The  veins  swelled  on  his  forehead  and 
his  chest  was  strained  in  effort;  his  lips  parted 
and  drew  back  like  an  animal's  disclosing  his  yellow 
teeth. 

"  I  am  very  busy  to-day,  Pilon,"  I  remarked,  "  and 
the  boat  must  be  finished.  Come  to-morrow  and  then 
we  '11  see." 

" Scelerat!"  he  hissed,  jerking  furiously,  "you 
shall  lick  my  boots." 

Tug  as  he  would,  he  could  not  make  headway. 
Passion  blazed  up  in  him;  he  released  his  grip  and 
struck  a  blow  at  me.  But  for  this  I  did  not  wait. 
Springing  forward,  I  seized  him  by  the  waist, 
tripped  his  feet,  and  flung  him  on  the  sand.  Like 


142  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

a  wild-cat  he  was  up,  his  hand  flew  to  his  coat, 
and  he  whipped  out  a  knife.  Before  I  could  dart 
behind  the  boat  he  leaped  at  me,  dodged  the  paint- 
brush which  I  cast  at  him,  and  plunged  forward. 
As  an  amusement  I  suddenly  had  doubts  of  this 
encounter;  the  man  was  a  savage  at  best,  and  now 
all  his  primitive  instincts  to  slay  were  aroused;  he 
was  beyond  reasoning.  Side-stepping,  I  struck  my 
fist  at  him  scarcely  with  aim,  a  glancing  blow  which 
landed  only  on  his  shoulder  though  it  checked  his 
rush;  yet  it  gave  me  the  instant  I  needed  to  jump 
in,  seize  his  wrist  with  my  left  hand,  and  throw  my 
right  arm  about  his  body.  The  advantage  was  on 
his  side,  for  in  turning  I  had  lost  my  balance,  so 
that  when  we  came  down  upon  the  sand  I  fell  under- 
neath. Still  for  the  moment  I  breathed  easier. 
He  could  not  use  his  knife,  nor  could  he  gouge  my 
eyes,  since  I  held  his  left  arm  against  his  body. 
His  fierce  breath  was  in  my  face,  his  red-rimmed 
eyes  glared  into  mine,  and  I  was  well  aware  that  no 
half-way  measures  would  now  serve.  I  set  myself 
to  work  with  all  the  skill  I  had  acquired  in  wrestling 
to  overturn  him  and  secure  the  mastery.  Wrapping 
my  leg  about  his  and  bringing  it  to  bear,  sinking  my 
fist  into  his  back  as  hard  as  I  was  able,  and  sud- 
denly doubling  back  the  hand  which  held  the  knife, 
I  put  forth  every  ounce  of  my  strength.  A  gasp 
was  wrung  from  his  throat;  his  teeth  set.  Then 
suddenly  slipping  my  free  hand  up  and  around  his 
jaw  and  crooking  my  knee  over  his  legs  —  a  trick 


A   DELEGATION    OF   FISHERMEN     143 

learned  from  a  Japanese  wrestler  —  I  gave  his  head 
a  twist  that  he  would  long  remember,  holding  his 
thighs  as  in  a  vice.  His  body  relaxed,  a  groan  of 
pain  escaped  him,  and  over  he  fell,  I  on  top.  I  still 
gripped  his  jaw,  twisted  his  face  into  the  sand. 

"  Drop  the  knife,"  I  ordered. 

An  instant  he  hesitated,  then  let  it  fall.  I  sprang 
up,  seized  it  with  one  hand  and  his  collar  with  the 
other,  and  commanded  him  to  rise ;  before  he  could 
gather  himself  to  resist  further  I  hustled  him  round 
the  boat  and  hurled  him  into  the  water,  where  he 
dropped  splashing  on  hands  and  knees.  When  he 
rose  and  faced  me,  I  was  ready  to  meet  him,  an  oar 
held  poised  as  a  weapon. 

"  Move  farther  out,"  I  ordered.  Sullenly  he  drew 
back  until  the  water  washed  about  his  knees.  "  Now 
we  can  discuss  the  map  calmly." 

He  spat  out  brine  and  made  no  answer,  except 
to  glare  at  me;  he  was  no  longer  the  masterful 
Pilon.  Bareheaded,  for  his  cap  had  fallen  off  when 
I  pitched  him  into  the  water  and  now  floated  a  little 
distance  off,  his  unkempt  hair  wet  and  bedraggled, 
the  curl  soaked  out  of  his  moustache,  he  remained 
only  an  enraged  brute.  One  side  of  his  face  yet 
showed  red  where  it  had  been  bruised  by  the 
sand. 

Finally  he  waded  a  few  steps,  as  if  to  make  land 
beyond  where  I  stood,  but  this  I  had  no  intention  of 
permitting.  Still  holding  my  oar  aloft,  I  kept  pace 
with  him  in  his  advance,  moving  along  the  beach 


,yv 

144  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

when  he  moved,  halting  when  he  halted.  Neither 
of  us  uttered  a  word;  speech  was  unnecessary,  for 
each  knew  the  mind  of  the  other,  and  the  game  was 
played  in  silence  and  with  exchanged  looks.  Twice 
he  sought  to  outdistance  me  by  speed  in  order  to 
effect  his  escape  from  the  water,  though  of  course 
he  met  with  disappointment ;  in  the  water  he  was  at 
a  disadvantage;  the  current  impeded  his  progress, 
held  his  feet.  At  last  he  perceived  that  I  was  deter- 
mined to  balk  him,  and  giving  up  further  attempt 
set  out  to  wade  to  the  village,  or  if  not  so  far  until 
I  grew  weary  of  accompanying  him.  I  chose  to  go 
even  to  Lavouche ;  I  flung  down  the  oar  and  drove 
him  the  whole  way,  he  wading  the  distance  knee- 
deep  in  water.  Hereafter  he  would  not  be  able  to 
boast  before  the  fishermen  that  he  would  cut  my 
comb. 

We  were  first  seen  approaching  by  a  number  of 
children,  who  ran  to  meet  us,  surprised  at  the  spec- 
tacle of  two  men  walking  in  such  fashion ;  and  they 
tailed  along  behind  me  in  whispering  wonder.  Then 
came  Gaspard,  the  boat-maker,  and  three  or  four 
men  who  had  been  calking  boats  on  the  sands. 

"  Hola !  why  do  you  walk  in  The  Throat?  "  one 
shouted  at  him. 

"  He  prefers  it,"  I  said.  "  His  head  is  hot,  but 
his  feet  are  cool." 

A  burst  of  laughter  greeted  the  sally.  The  men 
grasped  the  underlying  significance  of  the  picture; 
Pilon  had  bragged  how  he  would  trim  my  feathers, 


A   DELEGATION    OF   FISHERMEN     145 

and,  behold,  here  I  was  sailing  him  along  the  water 
like  a  boat!  It  was  humorous;  the  fishermen 
cracked  jokes  and  shouted  advice  how  one  could 
best  walk  on  water.  Pilon  answered  nothing.  He 
moved  straight  ahead,  until  we  came  to  the  beached 
boats,  where  I  brought  an  end  to  the  comedy. 

"  Come  again  to-morrow  and  we  will  discuss  the 
map  further,"  I  stated  in  conclusion. 

He  shook  the  water  out  of  his  hair,  scowled,  and 
made  straight  up  the  street  for  the  inn.  Brandy  is 
good  for  damp  feet.  I  watched  him,  then  turned 
to  the  men  and  children;  they  were  an  expectant 
audience,  standing  in  a  circle  waiting  until  I  should 
be  pleased  to  explain  the  farce. 

"  Pilon  is  a  great  and  wise  man,"  said  I.  "  La- 
vouche  appears  to  be  disturbed  about  a  certain  paper 
which  I  own,  and  Pilon  said  to  himself  that  he  would 
render  a  service  to  Lavouche,  he  would  assure  the 
mind  of  Lavouche,  he  would  bring  hither  the  docu- 
ment, he,  Pilon.  Therefore  half  an  hour  ago  he 
came  to  me  twirling  his  moustache  at  the  place 
where  I  painted  Jean's  boat.  '  Come,  little  man/ 
said  he,  '  run  and  fetch  the  paper,  or  I  will  kick  you 
all  the  way  up  to  the  house.  Make  haste,  do  not 
keep  Pilon  waiting/  '  I  paused  dramatically,  open- 
ing my  hands.  "  But  I  was  busy  with  my  painting. 
So  he  put  out  a  hand  in  order,  I  suppose,  to  kick 
me  along  as  he  said.  But  could  I  leave  the  boat 
unpainted  ?  No.  We  scuffled  a  little.  Pilon,  vexed', 
drew  a  knife  —  observe/'  And  I  produced  his  knife 


146  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

which  I  had  placed  in  my  belt.  A  murmur  of  as- 
tonishment ran  round  the  circle.  "It  is  a  good 
knife;  I  will  keep  it  to  cut  fish.  Presently  Pilon 
found  himself  face  down  in  the  water  —  and  so  he 
returned  wading  to  Lavouche.  I  regret  that  Pilon 
must  be  disappointed;  but,  consider,  could  I  leave 
the  boat  unpainted?" 

The  jest  was  appreciated.  The  men  slapped  their 
thighs  and  laughed,  saying  over  and  over,  "  Pilon, 
oh  that  Pilon !  "  while  the  children  though  uncom- 
prehending nevertheless  joined  in  the  mirth. 

Old  Gaspard  after  a  time  rubbed  his  nose 
shrewdly.  "  But  Pilon  will  find  another  knife, 
Charles." 

"  Undoubtedly.  Yet  on  the  other  hand  there  is 
also  more  water  in  the  ocean." 

"  Take  care,  take  care,"  he  warned.  "  The  fel- 
low may  not  choose  to  march  so  easily  next  time." 

As  I  returned  home,  I  saw  that  matters  were 
developing  into  definite  shape  and  events  drawing 
to  a  crisis.  My  situation  was  thus :  the  German 
Baron  was  watching  and  waiting  and  while  not  per- 
haps an  active  enemy,  at  least  an  opponent  who  bided 
the  time  when  he  might  avail  himself  of  an  oppor- 
tunity to  force  a  seizure  of  the  map ;  Pilon,  who  in 
his  vanity  had  thought  to  bully  me,  was  now  a  bitter 
and  revengeful  foe;  and  if  I  did  not  count  the 
secretary,  Davis,  who  had  shown  no  particular  ani- 
mosity, there  was,  last  and  most  important,  Del 
Hervalle,  who  seemed  determined  to  ruin  me. 


A   DELEGATION    OF    FISHERMEN     147 

Against  this  trio  I  could  set  Andrew,  Jean,  and  the 
old  boat-maker.  All  other  persons  on  the  island, 
notwithstanding  that  their  sympathies  might  be  with 
me,  could  not  be  counted  upon  to  engage  themselves 
actively  in  my  behalf.  When  I  considered  my  ad- 
herents, how  inadequate  they  seemed !  Andrew  was 
old,  Gaspard  was  old,  and  Jean  was  busy  with  his 
nets.  If  Billy  were  here  —  and  Maitland!  Well, 
I  should  have  to  do  the  best  I  could  alone. 

The  tide  made  about  five  o'clock.  It  was  nearly 
six  when  I  was  surprised  to  see  a  delegation  of 
some  half-dozen  fishermen  come  around  the  edge  of 
the  wood  and  ascend  the  slope  to  Stag  Lodge.  Evi- 
dently they  had  walked  straight  from  the  beaching 
of  their  boats  to  my  house,  without  landing  their 
fish  or  partaking  of  supper.  Antoine  Surgon,  a  solid, 
gray-bearded  man,  headed  the  little  party,  and  it  was 
not  until  he  spoke  that  I  remembered  he  filled  the 
office  of  mayor  of  Lavouche,  an  office  which,  since 
the  village  was  seldom  ruffled  and  had  for  important 
events  only  births,  marriages,  and  deaths,  gave  small 
cause  to  be  recollected.  With  him  were  three  others 
of  the  older  and  more  sedate  men,  besides  Jean,  my 
friend,  and  Pilon,  my  enemy.  The  latter  wore  a 
surly  determined  look,  though  he  walked  in  the 
rear. 

I  stepped  off  the  veranda  to  meet  them. 

"  Good  evening,  Charles  Woodworth,"  Surgon 
greeted.  "  We  're  making  you  a  visit  of  business 
which  concerns  Lavouche." 


148  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  You  're  welcome,"  said  I,  "  but  you  surprise 
me.  I  don't  recall  any  matter  of  business  with  which 
I  and  your  village  have  to  do." 

Surc.on  lighted  a  short  pipe,  puffed  it  until  it  was 
burning  well,  pushed  it  into  the  corner  of  his  mouth, 
and  spread  his  legs. 

"  It  is  that  map  now.  Pilon  here  and  others  say 
you  have  stolen  a  map  of  France's  fort,  which  we 
don't  believe,  but  it  seems  you  have  told  Gaspard 
that  you  have  such  a  map.  Eh,  now  ?  " 

"  Surc.on,  I  told  Gaspard  I  had  a  map  —  but  not 
of  France." 

"Of  that  we  do  not  know ;  Pilon  —  " 

"  Pilon  is  a  liar,"  I  interrupted,  looking  over  their 
heads  at  him. 

"  Come  forward,  Pilon,"  the  mayor  ordered. 

The  man  pushed  to  the  front.  Now  that  he  was 
supported  by  others  he  regained  something  of  his 
assurance;  he  twirled  his  moustache,  which  still 
drooped  from  its  wetting,  while  he  insolently  eyed 
me.  Then  he  half  turned  to  his  companions,  spread- 
ing one  hand  wide  with  the  fingers  apart. 

"  It  is  true,  my  comrades.  I  have  seen  the  map," 
That  was  even  beyond  what  I  had  expected  of  his 
audacity.  "  With  these  eyes  Pilon  saw  and  ex- 
amined the  map.  It  is  a  paper  so  long  and  so 
wide."  He  measured  a  square  in  the  air.  "  The 
paper  is  of  linen,  light  blue  in  color,  and  with 
writing  in  German." 

I  started.     This  was  craft  beyond   Pilon;    Del 


A   DELEGATION    OF    FISHERMEN     149 

Hervalle's  cunning  was  in  this.  The  tool  had  been 
well  coached.  Such  a  move  was  exactly  what  the 
envoy  would  project,  a  pawn  move  perhaps,  but 
pawns  could  be  advanced  until  grown  dangerous. 

"  You  have  heard,"  Surgon  announced.  "  Is  it  so, 
or  is  it  not?" 

There  was  nothing  to  answer  but  the  truth,  com- 
promising as  it  might  prove.  "  That  description 
is  somewhat  like  it  —  but  the  man  lies,  he  never 
saw  it." 

"Let  the  map  speak  between  us  and  see  who 
lies,"  Pilon  said  coolly,  "  let  him  bring  the  map." 

Several  nodded  their  heads.  Whether  Pilon  lied 
or  not  —  and  he  usually  lied  oftener  than  he  uttered 
the  truth  —  it  would  be  a  good  occasion,  they 
judged,  to  see  the  map  and  satisfy  their  curiosity. 
Surgon  also  nodded. 

"  Let  the  map  be  brought,  then  we  shall  know." 

"  But  you  '11  be  no  wiser  than  before,"  I  argued. 
"  There  is  no  name  on  it.  I  myself  don't  even  know 
the  name  or  country  to  which  it  belongs." 

"  Perceive,  Surgon,  it  is  convenient  at  times  to 
have  no  name  on  a  map  and  to  forget  a  name." 
And  Pilon  smiled  significantly. 

Surgon  puffed  his  pipe.  "  You  chatter  like  a 
parrot,"  said  he.  Then  addressing  me,  "  Bring  the 
map  and  we  shall  decide." 

That  was  final.  These  fishermen  were  stubborn 
folk  as  well  as  curious;  they  had  me  cornered  and 
did  not  hesitate  shrewdly  to  press  the  advantage. 


150  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

Any  other  time  I  should  have  smiled,  but  did  not 
do  so  now.  I  hesitated.  To  show  the  chart  to 
them  would  be  only  to  half-satisfy  their  desire  for 
knowledge  of  the  affair;  not  to  grant  their  de- 
mand would  put  me  in  the  position  of  being  afraid 
to  do  so  and  their  doubts  would  instantly  change 
to  belief  in  my  guilt  —  this  I  knew,  for  I  had  grown 
up  in  Lavouche,  so  to  speak,  learning  the  quirks 
and  crinkles  of  their  minds.  As  I  say,  I  hesitated 
between  the  two  courses ;  Del  Hervalle  had  certainly 
cast  me  into  a  quandary  by  this  trick.  Well,  what 
he  would  gain  by  it  was  yet  to  be  seen. 

I  went  into  the  house,  where  I  found  Andrew 
gazing  solemnly  through  a  window  at  the  small 
assemblage.  Carrying  the  silver  tankard  into  the 
kitchen,  I  poured  forth  the  wine  into  a  pitcher,  ex- 
tracted the  plug  which  held  the  dish  in  place,  and 
slipped  the  latter  out.  The  map  was  dry  and  safe. 

"  Set  a  table  on  the  grass,"  I  bade  Andrew. 

When  this  was  done,  I  spread  the  sheet  upon  it 
where  all  could  see.  The  men  pushed  back  their 
sou'westers  and  bent  stolidly  over  the  chart;  no 
doubt  it  carried  little  information  to  their  minds, 
but  nevertheless  they  studied  it  with  satisfaction; 
they  could  return  to  the  village  and  report  that  they 
had  indeed  beheld  the  disputed  drawing. 

"  Is  Pilon  a  liar?  "  scornfully  asked  that  worthy, 
who  had  been  gazing  upon  the  table  as  eagerly  as 
the  others. 

"  It  looks  like  nothing,"  one  fisherman  said  sagely. 


A    DELEGATION    OF   FISHERMEN     151 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  agreed  another. 

With  a  stubby  forefinger  still  resting  upon  the 
sheet  Surgon  regarded  me.  "Is  it  a  fort?" 

"  Yes." 

"Of  France?" 

"  No." 

"  Will  you  swear  to  it?  " 

"  How  can  I  swear  when  I  don't  know  of  what 
country  it  is  ?  But  I  believe  it  is  one  of  Germany's." 

"  Then  why  can't  you  swear?  " 

"  Because  I  do  not  know  positively." 

He  looked  at  the  map,  then  at  me,  then  again 
at  the  map.  All  the  others  listened  with  avid  ears. 
Only  Jean  stood  back  a  pace,  with  arms  folded,  de- 
clining to  join  in  their  business.  For  him  my  word 
was  sufficient. 

"  We  must  have  no  harm  come  to  France,"  said  a 
fisherman. 

"  None  will  come  to  her.  Use  your  eyes,  man  — 
this  is  a  German  map,"  I  declared. 

"  That  is  true,  Charles  Woodworth." 

But  I  had  counted  too  soon  upon  the  effect  of  such 
a  statement.  Here  Del  Hervalle,  through  his  pupil, 
showed  his  genius;  his  scheme  had  been  thoroughly 
thought  out,  no  detail  overlooked,  no  provision 
against  mistake  missed.  Pilon  went  on  with  his 
part,  and  if  he  were  a  ruffian,  yet  he  was  not  a 
fool. 

"  One  moment,  Monsieur  le  Maire,"  he  addressed 
Surgon,  "  consider  the  writing.  If  it  is  a  French 


152  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

map  for  Frenchmen,  it  would  be  in  the  French 
language.  But  if  it  is  a  French  map  to  sell  to 
Germans,  I  ask  you,  would  it  be  written  in  French 
or  in  German  ?  " 

"  Mon  Dieu!    German,  to  be  sure." 

Pilon  stretched  forth  one  of  his  hands.  "  This 
is  a  French  map  in  German." 

"  Or  a  German  map  in  German,"  I  countered. 

The  others  stood  in  silence,  their  minds  balanced 
between  two  opinions.  I  said  it  was  German  and 
my  word  had  always  been  respected  —  and  yet 
stranger  things  had  occurred  than  maps  being  sold 
by  reputable  people.  Pilon  maintained  it  was 
French.  Of  course  every  one  knew  what  Pilon's 
word  was  worth;  yet  had  he  not  been  right  and  I 
wrong  when  he  described  the  map?  As  for  Pilon 
he  was  well  satisfied  with  the  way  affairs  were 
going.  One  thumb  was  hooked  in  his  belt  as  was 
its  habit;  the  other,  together  with  forefinger, 
twisted  and  twirled  and  flourished  first  one  end  of 
his  moustache  and  then  the  other.  He  was  in  his 
element ;  he  stood  in  the  limelight ;  he  had  regained 
his  former  position  of  prominence,  which  I  had 
temporarily  dashed  when  I  drove  him  wading  to 
Lavouche.  From  time  to  time  he  cast  an  insolent 
look  at  me,  while  the  fishermen  studied  and  weighed 
and  considered.  From  time  to  time  he  smiled  tri- 
umphantly. And  he  was  not  yet  done. 

"  Ask  Monsieur  Woodworth  what  a  certain  Ger- 
man gentleman  does  here  in  Lavouche,  if  this  is 


153 

not  a  French  map  for  Germans?  "  he  said  to  Surgon. 
"  Why  does  that  gentleman  stay  here  in  the  village 
apparently  doing  nothing?  Did  he  not  arrive  the 
same  afternoon  as  Monsieur  Woodworth  ?  Does  he 
not  visit  at  this  house?  Is  it  likely  that  such  a 
gentleman  would  stop  here  if  he  had  not  special 
business?  Possibly  Monsieur  can  inform  us  of  the 
nature  of  that  business." 

Now,  as  he  concluded  and  before  any  one  could 
speak,  Fortune,  who  had  until  now  stood  neutral, 
stepped  over  to  Pilon's  side.  It  was  a  scurvy  trick ; 
without  any  additional  weight  of  evidence  against 
me  I  had  all  the  difficulties  to  contend  with  I  could 
well  manage.  Then  to  fling  another  weight  into 
the  opposite  scale! 

At  this  instant  when  matters  hung  by  a  hair  the 
German  himself  strolled  out  of  the  wood.  Surprise 
sprang  upon  his  face  at  the  unexpected  group  before 
the  door;  he  paused,  but  only  for  a  brief  interval, 
then  continued  to  advance,  lightly  switching  stalks 
of  grass  with  his  bamboo  stick.  His  face  once  more 
was  composed.  If  he  experienced  any  curiosity  as 
to  this  unwonted  gathering,  it  was  not  apparent,  and 
since  all  eyes  were  fastened  on  him,  making  retreat 
impossible,  he  came  forward  without  hesitation. 

"  But  since  the  gentleman  himself  is  here,  per- 
haps he  will  relieve  Monsieur  Woodworth  of  the 
necessity  of  answering,"  continued  Pilon. 

The  turn  of  the  affair  was  dramatic  and  in  his 
favor;  the  scoundrel  could  be  nothing  else  but 


154  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

pleased.    Glances  passed  among  the  fishermen.  They 
too  were  well  suited  by  the  dramatic  occurrence. 

As  for  the  Baron,  he  looked  from  one  to  another 
of  the  group,  until  his  eyes  suddenly  fell  on  the  map 
spread  out  upon  the  table.  However  he  betrayed  no 
emotion.  His  look  rested  on  me  thoughtfully,  then 
he  smiled. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  in  French.  "  I 
was  unaware  that  I  interrupted  a  conference.  I  will 
withdraw." 

"  Remain,  monsieur.  It  concerns  you,"  Surgon 
replied.  "  May  I,  as  mayor  of  the  village  of 
Lavouche,  inquire  the  purpose  of  your  residence  on 
the  island  ?  " 

By  the  line  that  creased  his  brow  I  could  see 
that 'the  Baron  was  doing  some  fast  thinking.  To 
come  all  at  once  into  a  council  as  he  had  done,  to 
perceive  the  map  spread  open  to  a  dozen  eyes,  the 
map  which  he  was  determined  to  have,  that  would 
have  disconcerted  any  man.  And  further  to  be  im- 
mediately asked  the  explanation  of  his  sojourn  was 
under  the  circumstances  extremely  embarrassing. 
What  his  thoughts  were  would  have  been  interesting 
to  know.  The  fishermen,  myself,  the  open  map  — 
what  did  he  imagine  concerning  it  all  ? 

"  I  Ve  private  interests  with  this  gentleman,"  he 
responded,  indicating  me  by  a  gesture. 

"  May  I  inquire  what  these  are?  " 

Whether  he  suspected  that  I  had  made  known  our 
relations,  or  whether  he  simply  determined  upon 


A   DELEGATION    OF   FISHERMEN     155 

a  bold  stroke  of  chance,  I  do  not  undertake  to  state. 
At  any  rate,  he  drew  his  walking-stick  slowly 
through  his  fingers  and  said: 

"  The  question  appears  impertinent,  Monsieur  le 
Maire,  so  long  as  I  give  you  no  occasion  to  find 
fault  with  my  conduct.  However,  if  the  functions 
of  your  office  include  an  interrogation  of  visitors, 
I  '11  answer.  I  'm  here  for  the  purpose  of  obtain- 
ing this  map  from  Monsieur  Woodworm."  And 
swinging  his  stick  to  and  fro  he  awaited  further 
questions. 

There  was  need  of  none.  Surc.on  and  his  com- 
panions took  a  long  look  at  him,  next  at  me,  and 
finally  at  each  other.  Pilon  twirled  his  moustache 
triumphantly;  Jean  continued  with  arms  folded, 
stolid,  unmoved;  and  I  wanted  to  laugh  —  laugh 
hysterically  at  the  sheer  grotesqueness  of  the  thing. 

Pilon  put  out  a  hand  to  take  the  map.  I  struck 
it  away. 

"  Not  yet,  my  friend,"  I  said,  and  folding  the 
sheet  slipped  it  into  my  pocket. 

"  We  will  bid  you  good  evening  and  depart  to 
consider  this  matter  further,"  Surgon  said;  and  he 
bowed  with  a  formal  little  bow  that  sat  strangely 
on  his  figure,  a  bow  however  which  was  full  of 
significance. 

"  As  you  please,"  said  I. 

And  down  the  slope  they  went  in  silence,  until 
they  turned  and  vanished  around  the  wood.  After 
that  their  voices  broke  out  in  a  chatter  which  pres- 


156  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

ently  died  away  as  they  receded.  Jean  had  re- 
mained. I  drew  him  to  one  side  and  urged  him 
not  to  believe  appearances;  for  answer  he  assured 
me  that  he  trusted  my  word  before  everything  else 
in  the  world.  I  gave  him  the  letter  and  telegram 
I  had  written  to  Maitland,  explained  that  it  would 
clear  up  this  matter,  and  warned  him  to  carry  them 
with  his  own  hands  to  the  neighboring  railroad 
station.  This  he  agreed  to  do  first  thing  next  morn- 
ing, after  which  he  took  his  departure. 

Then  I  went  back  to  the  Baron,  who  was  gazing 
speculatively  out  to  sea. 

"  Did  I  embarrass  you  by  my  little  speech,  Mr. 
iWoodworth  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  We  '11  both  be  embarrassed  by  it,  I  fear,  in  the 
near  future." 

"If  agreeable  to  you,  I  '11  be  pleased  to  be  further 
informed  of  this  extraordinary  matter." 

"  The  right  is  yours.  Our  neighbor,  Senor  Del 
Hervalle,  spread  the  report  that  I  possessed  a  map 
of  a  French  fort  which  I  was  about  to  sell  to  you. 
As  a  result,  I  was  in  the  midst  of  an  investigation 
when  you  arrived;  your  words,  however,  termi- 
nated it." 

"  Ah,  I  see,"  the  Baron  said.  He  mused  a  mo- 
ment. "  I  'm  beginning  to  develop  a  strong  ad- 
miration for  our  Venezuelan  friend." 


CHAPTER    IX 

UNDER   SURVEILLANCE 

The  chief  business  of  fishermen  is  to  fish;  other 
affairs  have  therefore  to  be  arranged  accordingly. 
It  seemed  that  the  villagers  who  were  now  thor- 
oughly convinced  of  my  complicity  in  selling  one 
of  France's  war  maps  did  not  quite  know  what  to 
do  about  the  matter.  I  was  an  American  citizen 
and  I  was  on  American  soil;  there  did  not  appear 
to  be  a  law  that  any  one  knew  of  which  fitted  the 
case.  The  delegation,  with  the  exception  of  Jean, 
having  invited  a  number  of  other  men  to  join  them 
in  consultation,  met  after  supper  in  Surgon's  house. 
Long  they  talked,  discussed,  agreed,  and  bickered 
without  arriving  anywhere,  until  finally  Surgon  him- 
self thumped  the  table  and  said  they  would  set  a 
guard  on  me  and  one  on  the  German  in  order  that 
the  paper  should  not  be  passed  between  us;  and  in 
the  interval  an  effort  should  be  made  to  secure  the 
map,  which  if  successful  would  result  in  its  either 
being  destroyed  or  sent  to  France.  That  seemed  as 
good  a  plan  as  any  —  and  meanwhile  it  was  time 
for  bed. 

The  first  thing  that  I  saw  in  the  morning,  in  con- 
sequence of  this  decision,  was  the  figure  of  a  man 


158  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

sitting  on  the  grass  before  Stag  Lodge,  with  his 
back  to  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  a  cigarette  in  his  mouth 
and  his  face  towards  my  door.  When  I  went  out 
to  him  I  discovered  the  man  to  be  Esper,  the  little 
rascal  at  whom  Pilon  had  flung  the  wine-glass  the 
first  afternoon  I  visited  the  inn.  He  made  himself 
very  comfortable ;  the  sun  slanted  under  the  boughs 
and  fell  warm  upon  his  body  and  he  smoked  in 
peace  and  indolence;  for  it  was  a  task  that  would 
require  little  exertion,  that  is,  if  I  were  sensible 
and  remained  at  home  and  did  not  move  about, 
causing  him  inconvenience.  He  might  even  take 
naps  —  so  he  explained  to  me,  after  stating  the  pur- 
pose of  his  presence  here.  From  his  standpoint 
there  appeared  to  be  certain  obligations  on  my  side 
as  well  as  on  his. 

He  was  a  meager,  middle-aged,  sharp,  undersized 
man,  but  quick  and  impudent;  he  wore  neither 
moustache  nor  beard,  and  the  features  of  his  face 
were  all  bent  to  one  side,  as  if  he  had  stood  in  a 
strong  wind;  his  eyes  were  small  and  bright,  his 
nose  too  long,  and  a  tricky  smile  kept  constantly 
coming  and  going  upon  his  lips.  Altogether  he  was 
just  the  sort  of  fellow  to  tail  after  Pilon ;  in  Paris, 
when  he  drifted  about  the  Montmartre  district,  he 
was  probably  known  as  The  Rat,  or  The  Beak,  or 
by  some  equally  suggestive  name.  A  dirty  red  silk 
handkerchief  was  tied  about  his  neck,  a  bunch  of 
fish  cord  stuck  out  of  one  of  his  pockets.  In  the 
conversation  which  ensued  he  informed  me  of  what 


UNDER    SURVEILLANCE  159 

decision  had  been  reached  by  the  villagers  as  to 
myself,  also  that  Pilon  would  some  day  put  a  knife 
into  my  back. 

I  jingled  the  coins  in  my  pocket.  He  pricked  up 
an  ear. 

"  You  're  well  paid  for  this  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  snapped  his  fingers. 

After  a  moment  I  sat  down  upon  the  grass  and 
drew  forth  my  cigarette  case.  Flinging  away  the 
cigarette  he  smoked,  he  reached  out  his  hand  as 
would  one  comrade  to  another  and  helped  himself 
to  three,  one  of  which  he  lighted. 

"  You  don't  fish  much  of  late,  you  and  Descarte 
and  Pilon?" 

"  La,  la,  why  should  we  fish  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  why  should  you,  while  Senor  Del 
Hervalle  remains  here." 

"  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  ?  "    His  tone  was  polite. 

"  He  pays  of  course  —  but  Pilon  skims  the  cream, 
I  suppose."  A  flicker  went  over  his  face.  "  And 
you  and  Descarte  take  what  he  gives  you,  which  is 
little.  Is  n't  that  the  case?  " 

"  Monsieur,  you  talk  of  strange  things." 

I  took  out  a  Collar  and  let  it  lie  in  my  open  palm, 
where  he  regarded  it  steadily  out  of  the  notch  of 
his  eye. 

"  Is  n't  such  the  case  ?  " 

"  No,  monsieur." 

I  laid  a  second  beside  the  first.     "  Eh  ?  " 

He  considered.    "  No,  monsieur." 


160  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

A  third  was  added  and  I  looked  the  question. 

"  No,  monsieur,"  said  he  at  last.  I  moved  my 
hand  to  return  the  money  to  my  pocket.  "  Yes, 
monsieur,"  he  corrected. 

"  Not  so  fast,  Esper,"  as  he  stretched  his  fingers 
to  take  them.  "  Pilon  drinks  the  cream,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  damn  him !  And  some  night  he  '11  bite  the 
blade  of  a  knife!" 

He  spat  out  the  words  venomously.  It  was  plain 
to  see  that  there  was  little  love  lost  between  the 
rogues;  Esper  and  Descarte  squirmed  under  their 
leader's  domineering.  I  handed  him  the  dollars. 
Three  facts  I  had  discovered  as  a  result  of  our  brief 
transaction:  Del  Hervalle  was  keeping  the  men  in 
his  pay  for  some  purpose  or  other,  Pilon  had  aroused 
the  secret  jealousy  of  the  other  two  by  retaining 
the  major  part  of  the  hire-money,  and  this  rascal 
in  front  of  me  could  be  purchased. 

Esper  proved  to  be  not  such  an  unpleasant  com- 
panion as  I  had  imagined.  He  possessed  a  certain 
lively  form  of  wit  and  regaled  me  with  tales  of 
escapades  through  which  he  had  passed  in  various 
European  cities.  By  a  natural  inference  he  should 
now  have  been  in  the  galleys,  but  when  I  mentioned 
that  fact  to  him  he  looked  at  me  in  pained  surprise. 

"  What,  the  galleys  for  a  few  little  jests ! "  he 
exclaimed. 

Descarte,  who  had  been  set  to  watch  the  Baron, 
did  not  find  his  task  so  pleasant.  The  German  sim- 
ply ignored  his  presence,  made  no  response  to  the 


UNDER    SURVEILLANCE  161 

man's  overtures  towards  conversation,  and  walked 
him  about  until  the  fellow's  feet  were  blistered. 
As  I  amused  myself  by  joking  with  Esper,  Von 
Hussman  took  his  pleasure  in  seeing  the  other  fel- 
low exercise.  As  he  told  me  afterwards,  he  had  in 
the  beginning  no  intention  of  making  Descarte  earn 
his  warder's  pence,  but  when  the  man  protested  that 
his  feet  were  growing  sore  the  Baron  then  de- 
liberately put  himself  in  motion.  Lavouche  could 
not  interfere ;  indeed,  it  began  to  see  the  humor  of 
the  match.  Von  Hussman  walked  from  the  village 
to  the  rock  of  La  Dent;  he  followed  up  the  main 
beach  five  miles  to  the  lighthouse;  returning,  he 
made  me  a  brief  visit,  circled  the  island,  and  went 
south.  By  noon  he  had  covered  fifteen  miles. 
Descarte  thought  at  last  he  was  done,  but  he  did 
not  guess  the  depths  of  Teuton  villainy.  At  one 
o'clock  Von  Hussman  set  forth  again  and  walked 
this  time  ten  miles  beyond  the  lighthouse.  They 
arrived  at  the  village  towards  evening  and  entered 
the  inn. 

"  Madame,"  said  the  Baron,  "  bring  me  a  pint  of 
wine.  I  must  walk  thrice  around  the  island  before 
supper.  Afterwards  —  " 

But  there  was  to  be  no  afterwards  for  Descarte. 
He  staggered  to  a  table  and  fell  into  a  seat. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  mon  Dieu!  This  wild  beast  has 
killed  me !  "  he  cried ;  and  sat  in  a  stupor  until  the 
inn-woman  brought  him  a  glass  of  brandy. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Jean  came  to 


162  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

inform  me  that  both  letter  and  telegram  had  been 
sent  and  were  now  speeding  towards  New  York. 
That  eased  my  mind  of  a  weight.  With  Maitland 
and  Mr.  Fenton  present  to  identify  Del  Hervalle  as 
the  D'Urville  of  Forge,  thief  and  murderer,  even 
Mr.  Moore  could  no  longer  deny  acknowledgment 
of  the  man's  identity.  Cheered  by  this  thought  and 
having  fresh  confidence  that  now  things  would  be- 
gin to  run  aright,  I  set  out  for  Moore  House  with 
my  mind  made  up  to  lay  aside  worry  and  enjoy 
Betty's  company.  Whether  Esper  would  have  the 
courage,  or  perhaps  the  better  word  is  audacity,  to 
follow  at  my  heels  into  Moore  House  was  a  ques- 
tion whose  solution  afforded  me  a  minor  interest. 
The  rascal  did  not  oppose  my  movements;  at  noon 
I  had  had  Andrew  supply  him  with  a  meal  better 
than  he  had  tasted  for  many  a  day,  and  this,  with  a 
handful  of  cigars  which  I  discovered  he  had  appro- 
priated from  my  jar,  kept  him  in  good  humor. 
Andrew,  to  be  sure,  was  horrified  at  having  such 
a  guest  at  Stag  Lodge,  but  then  Andrew  was  always 
fastidious. 

I  found  Betty  and  Muriel  Nesbit  upon  the  lawn. 

"  Who  is  that?  "  they  both  exclaimed,  when  they 
beheld  Esper  lounging  at  my  side. 

"  This  is  my  squire."  The  little  Frenchman 
smirked.  "  Take  off  your  hat,"  I  ordered.  He 
did  so.  "  And  retire  to  that  tree." 

He  held  out  his  hand. 

"What  do  you  want?" 


UNDER    SURVEILLANCE  163 

Tapping  his  trousers  pocket  so  that  the  dollars 
I  had  given  him  clinked,  he  lowered  one  eyelid  and 
again  stretched  forth  his  hand.  This  was  bargain- 
ing carried  too  far.  I  caught  him  by  the  scruff  of 
the  neck,  shook  him  once,  and  marched  him  to  the 
tree  to  which  I  had  earlier  pointed. 

"  Oh,  la,  if  you  desire,  monsieur."  And  he  com- 
posed himself  in  comfort. 

"  In  the  name  of  mystery,  what  does  this  mean  ?  " 
Muriel  exclaimed. 

"  That  fellow  Esper  presumed  on  our  new  ac- 
quaintance. The  village  has  taken  it  into  its  head 
that  I  'm  about  to  injure  France  by  selling  a  docu- 
ment I  have  to  Germany.  Hence,  Esper.  He  is  my 
guard." 

"  How  ridiculous !  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  it 's  serious.  I  'm  a  watched 
man.  When  Lavouche  makes  up  its  mind  to  do  a 
thing,  Lavouche  does  it  in  earnest.  The  esteem  in 
which  I  supposed  myself  to  be  held  by  the  good 
villagers  has  turned  out  to  be  suspicion,  and  this 
fellow  has  been  assigned  to  act  as  my  guard." 

They  looked  at  him  as  if  he  might  have  been 
a  strange  fish  out  of  the  sea  —  a  strange  fish  he 
was,  for  that  matter,  in  Lavouche  waters.  Unem- 
barrassed, pleased  in  fact  as  he  afterwards  related 
to  me  by  the  fine  attention  of  such  beautiful  ladies, 
an  honor  he  had  rarely  been  accorded,  he  smirked 
and  smiled  impudently  and  cocked  his  old  hat  on 
one  side. 


164  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

We  strolled  upon  the  lawn.  Some  time  later  a 
servant  approached  and  informed  me  that  Mr. 
Moore  would  be  pleased  to  have  me  join  him  in 
the  library.  Making  my  excuses  to  the  young 
ladies,  I  followed  him  into  the  house  and  to  the 
room  designated,  where  I  found  Mr.  Moore,  Senor 
Del  Hervalle,  and  the  latter's  secretary,  all  sitting 
about  a  table.  The  top  was  strewn  with  papers; 
the  gentlemen  were  busy  on  diplomatic  affairs.  An 
agreement  had  been  reached,  it  appeared,  between 
the  representative  of  our  government  and  that  of 
Venezuela  in  regard  to  a  certain  concession  which  an 
American  rubber  company  had  purchased  in  the 
republic  to  the  south  and  which  had  subsequently 
become  involved  in  dispute.  The  company  had  ap- 
pealed to  the  United  States  government;  this  was 
one  of  the  minor  matters  which  had  occupied  Mr. 
Moore  while  upon  his  mission  and  engaged  him 
now  during  his  sojourn  here  in  Lavouche,  where 
he  and  his  guest  might  work  without  interruption 
and  enjoy  the  coolness  of  a  northern  climate.  A 
memorandum  of  agreement  had  been  prepared,  and 
as  they  wished  a  witness's  name  appended  to  the 
same  before  they  submitted  it  to  the  various  parties 
concerned,  I  affixed  my  signature  to  the  papers. 
In  the  course  of  the  conversation  I  learned  that 
Senor  Del  Hervalle  would  presently  return  to 
Venezuela.  The  most  pressing  matters  upon  which 
the  two  men  had  been  negotiating  had  been  satis- 
factorily concluded;  others  would  be  later  settled; 


UNDER    SURVEILLANCE  165 

a  week  perhaps  would  yet  be  necessary  to  discuss 
certain  details  and  arrange  for  a  future  continuance 
of  diplomatic  inquiries.  In  a  week  at  the  latest 
Senor  Del  Hervalle  planned  to  take  his  departure 
from  Lavouche  to  visit  New  York,  Washington, 
and  afterwards  sail  to  South  America. 

And  during  that  week?  I  looked  at  the  plump 
Frenchman;  he  complacently  returned  my  gaze. 
Suave,  dignified,  pleasant,  garbed  in  his  official  frock 
and  wearing  a  handsome  ascot  and  immaculate  linen, 
he  played  the  role  of  a  government  functionary  with 
all  the  assurance  and  all  the  delicate  touches  of  art 
which  bespoke  a  master-actor.  I  asked  myself  if  it 
were  indeed  acting.  Did  this  work  not  come  more 
naturally  to  his  genius  than  that  of  a  mechanic 
carrying  an  iron  wrench  ?  Was  not  his  talent  rather 
of  the  scope  which  manipulates  the  rods  and  levers 
of  great  affairs  than  the  bolts  and  screws  of  little 
schemes?  In  other  words,  was  he  not  rather  the 
real  man  here  than  he  had  seemed  at  Forge  —  more 
Del  Hervalle  than  he  ever  had  been  D'Urville?  Yet 
he  could  not  wholly  wipe  off  the  grease  acquired 
when  he  wore  a  blouse  instead  of  a  coat,  could  not 
wholly  abandon  little  schemes  and  devote  himself 
utterly  to  great  ones.  For  behold  him  playing  tag 
for  a  map  with  an  insignificant  fellow  named 
Charles  Woodworth! 

It  was  at  dinner  that  evening,  to  which  I  re- 
mained, that  the  subject  of  my  surveillance  natur- 
ally came  up  for  discussion.  One  could  not  have 


166  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

such  a  shadow  as  Esper  following  at  heel  or  waiting 
before  a  door  like  a  patient  terrier  for  his  master 
without  creating  comment.  Therefore  I  narrated 
the  visit  which  had  been  made  to  me  by  the  fisher- 
men, mentioning  merely  that  they  suspected  me  of 
disposing  of  a  military  map  stolen  from  France  to 
a  German  stranger. 

"  Such  is  not  the  case,  Mr.  Woodworth  ?  "  It 
was  Davis  who  asked  the  question,  in  his  usual 
impassive  voice. 

"  I  can  assure  you  that  it 's  not,"  said  I.  "  I 
also  recognize  your  interest  in  the  matter  since  our 
embroilment  upon  the  lawn." 

"  Perhaps  I  could  justify  you  to  Lavouche," 
Mr.  Moore  said  smoothly,  "  if  I  examined  the 
document." 

"  That  would  be  agreeable  to  me." 

"  Since  the  villagers  have  seen  it,"  he  continued, 
"  it  has  become  more  or  less  of  a  public  document. 
You  stand  at  present  in  need  of  an  advocate.  Of 
course  the  charge  is  an  absurd  canard,  and  it 's 
rather  remarkable  how  it  started.  Some  one  is 
usually  responsible  for  such  a  report." 

"A  fellow  named  Pilon  seems  to  be  the  chief 
busybody." 

"  I  Ve  heard  of  him,  also  heard  that  you  threw 
him  into  the  water.  Was  not  that  the  story,  Betty  ? 
However,  it  does  n't  explain  the  circumstance  of 
the  insinuation  about  you  which  has  been  spread  so 
freely." 


UNDER    SURVEILLANCE  167 

"  There  's  a  stranger  in  the  village,  is  there  not?  " 
Sefior  Del  Hervalle  inquired  blandly. 

Muriel  now  entered  the  conversation. 

"  And  a  very  good-looking  one.  I  passed  him 
once  in  the  wood  road.  What  he  's  doing  here  on 
the  island,  I  don't  know,  but  I  'm  sure  he  's  a  gentle- 
man who  would  be  well  worth  making  the  acquaint- 
ance of.  Mr.  Moore,  you  might  bring  him  over. 
You  and  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  and  Mr.  Davis  are 
always  busy  over  papers  and  Mr.  Woodworth  ap- 
parently has  no  time  to  spare  "  —  she  flashed  a  dis- 
dainful look  at  me  —  "  so  all  the  excitement  Betty 
and  I  can  have  is  in  going  down  and  sighing  over  the 
sad  sea  waves." 

"  If  you  've  nothing  left  but  sighing,  I  shall  cer- 
tainly bring  this  gentleman  over  to  occupy  you, 
young  ladies." 

"  Thank  you,  I  '11  put  on  my  best  frock  to-morrow 
afternoon  and  be  waiting  at  the  door." 

By  this  diversion  the  subject  of  the  map  was 
relegated  to  the  background;  nor  did  I  wish  it  to 
be  elsewhere.  I  gave  my  attention  chiefly  to  Betty, 
who  sat  by  my  side,  and  in  a  minor  degree  to 
Muriel,  to  whom  I  owed  a  return  for  her  intimation 
as  to  my  lack  of  gallantry.  Her  mind  was  quick, 
her  tongue  equally  so,  and  we  crossed  swords  more 
than  once  in  little  encounters.  She  was  not  partial ; 
Mr.  Moore,  Senor  Del  Hervalle,  Davis,  all  of  us 
had  our  wit  kept  busy  giving  as  good  as  she 
sent. 


1 68  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

Talk  drifted  on.  Betty,  with  whom  I  had  been 
conversing,  turned  to  Davis,  who  sat  on  her  oppo- 
site side,  and  engaged  his  attention.  Through  the 
banter  passing  back  and  forth  I  could  catch  the 
trend  of  their  words.  She  was  lightly  chaffing  him 
about  his  attentions  to  Margot  of  the  village;  it 
had  been  reported  that  he  had  been  seen  sailing 
with  her,  again  walking  in  the  wood.  His  answers 
were  given  in  a  low  voice  and  with  a  shadow  of  a 
smile.  Probably  he  experienced  a  secret  exultation. 
Betty  had  soundly  rated  me,  he  remembered,  for 
once  interrupting  their  talk;  indeed,  she  had  not 
since  displayed  any  difference  of  attitude  towards 
him  as  a  result  of  his  presumptuous  words,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  and  moreover  she  showed  a 
regard  for  his  comings  and  goings.  Was  there  a 
little  malice  in  her  talk  of  Margot,  a  little  jealousy? 
Thus  probably  he  was  moved  to  believe.  He  did 
not  deny  her  impeachment,  nor  excuse  his  actions; 
he  left  her  to  infer  that  all  she  said  might  have 
been  possible  and  with  others  too  might  not  be 
impossible.  The  innocent  questions  she  now  and 
then  slipped  into  the  general  talk  were  unnoted. 
It  went  something  like  this:  Margot  had  told  her 
(white  little  fib)  that  he  confided  in  her.  A  man 
desired  a  friendly  confidant,  said  he.  Had  Margot 
said  that  no  other  woman  should  walk  in  the  wood 
with  him?  Oh,  Margot  might  say  foolish  things, 
Margot  had  a  temper.  What  did  Margot  mean 
when  she  said  that  he  knew  everything?  He  con- 


UNDER    SURVEILLANCE  169 

sidered,  then  said  that  Margot  was  a  strange  woman. 
Betty's  talk  ran  on  for  a  time.  What  place  had 
Margot  meant  when  she  told  her  that  some  one 
ought  to  beware  of  strange  doors? 

"The  place?  Why,  the  house  —  "  He  stopped 
suddenly  and  gave  her  a  swift  searching  look. 
"Did  Margot  say  that?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  've  wondered  at  what  she  hinted." 

"  I  regret  that  I  'm  not  informed." 

"  You  started  to  mention  a  place,"  she  said,  her 
bright  eyes  exercising  all  of  their  fascination. 

Half  an  instant  he  hesitated,  then  passed  the  sub- 
ject with  an  evasive  answer.  Betty  had  nearly 
snared  him  —  nearly,  but  not  quite ;  just  in  time 
he  had  caught  the  words  back  and  now  was  on 
guard.  I  could  imagine,  judging  from  a  fleeting 
scowl  on  his  face,  that  he  was  not  at  that  moment 
considering  Margot  with  favor. 

A.fter  the  meal  was  finished  we  went  into  the 
drawing-room,  where  Betty  seated  herself  at  the 
piano.  The  long  windows  were  open,  we  gentlemen 
had  permission  to  smoke  and  (as  Muriel  had  said) 
ascend  to  our  after-dinner  heaven.  She  joined 
Betty,  and  together  they  thumped  out  one  of  those 
four-hand  duets  which  everybody  abominates,  but 
which  Mr.  Moore  had  requested. 

I  sauntered  to  the  side  of  the  little  envoy,  who 
stood  alone. 

"  Does  n't  this  remind  you  of  old  times  in  Forge 
House  —  but  I  forget  myself,"  I  said.  "You  were 


170  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

not  on  the  same  social  footing  there  as  Frederick 
Douglass." 

He  slowly  removed  his  long  amber  cigarette 
holder. 

"  Unfortunately,  my  good  Charles,  I  was  not." 
So  he  no  longer  made  pretense  of  denial  that  Forge 
had  known  him.  "  Yet  you  and  I  had  a  conversation 
or  two." 

"  In  the  machine-shop,  yes." 

"  There  it  was,  I  believe." 

"Have  your  fingers  lost  their  skill,  Senor?" 

Smiling,  he  raised  one  short  hand,  looked  at  it, 
turned  it  over,  and  turned  it  back. 

"What  do  you  think?" 

"  Oh,  I  fancy  you  could  pick  a  lock  if  you  put 
yourself  to  it." 

"  It  has  been  some  time  since  I  tried,"  said  he. 

Mr.  Moore  joined  us. 

"  Bring  over  the  map  to-morrow  afternoon,"  he 
said  to  me.  "  Then  I  '11  quiet  this  talk  among  the 
villagers.  A  word  from  me  will  go  a  long  way, 
I  think,  towards  assuring  them."  And  to  this  I 
agreed. 

Towards  ten  o'clock  I  took  my  leave.  As  I  bade 
them  all  good-night,  I  observed  that  Davis  was 
absent.  A  few  minutes  previous  he  had  been  in 
conversation  with  Senor  Del  Hervalle;  so  in  order 
to  get  an  inkling  of  his  whereabouts,  if  possible,  I 
mentioned  that  I  was  sorry  that  he  was  not  present 
to  receive  my  adieux. 


UNDER    SURVEILLANCE  171 

"  I  have  sent  him  away  on  a  certain  matter," 
the  Sefior  explained. 

It  flashed  into  my  mind  that  he  had  gone  ahead 
to  waylay  me,  but  second  judgment  told  me  this 
was  absurd.  Absurd  it  proved  when  I  and  my  guard 
Esper  made  our  way  home.  Senor  Del  Hervalle 
had  undoubtedly  dispatched  him  to  the  library  to 
finish  certain  work. 

"  That  was  a  magnificent  meal,  that  of  yours, 
monsieur,"  Esper  remarked  reflectively,  as  we 
proceeded. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  observed  through  a  window.  As  yet,  master, 
I  have  dined  only  on  air." 

"  Am  I  supposed  to  feed  you  as  well  as  to  have 
you  shadow  me  ?  " 

"  Mon  Dieu,  to  be  sure.  I  am  not  a  fish  to  suck 
water,  or  a  bird  to  peck  leaves.  How  else  am  I  to 
eat?" 

Certainly,  how  else  if  I  did  not  provide  for 
him?  It  was  the  clearest  thing  in  the  world. 
When  we  reached  Stag  Lodge,  I  therefore  led  him 
into  the  kitchen,  where  Andrew  gazed  at  him  with 
disfavor. 

"  What  will  you  have  to  eat?  "  I  asked  dryly. 

Scratching  his  nose  and  smiling,  he  considered. 

"  Consomme,  a  turbot,  if  it  please  you,  monsieur, 
a  fillet  of  beef  a  la  Creole,  a  salad  of  —  " 

"  Stop !  where  did  you  learn  all  that  ? "  I  de- 
manded. 


172  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

His  surprise  was  admirable,  surprise  tinged  with 
injury. 

"  I  ?  I  was  once  a  valet-de-chambre  to  a  gentle- 
man of  Marseilles;  and,  if  you  please,  a  meringue 
also,  camambert  —  " 

Andrew  folded  his  hands  across  his  paunch  in 
strong  disapproval.  Then  he  turned  and  entered 
the  pantry.  When  he  came  forth,  he  bore  a  single 
plate. 

"  And  champagne  and  a  liqueur,"  concluded  Esper 
with  a  smirk. 

Andrew  held  out  the  dish.  On  it  lay  a  crust  of 
bread  and  two  dried  herrings. 


CHAPTER    X 

THE   MESSAGE 

A  telegram  was  brought  to  me  early  next  morn- 
ing. It  had  been  dispatched  the  previous  day  by 
Billy  Harrington,  announcing  his  anticipated  ar- 
rival on  this  same  afternoon,  and  by  some  unex- 
plainable  burst  of  energy  on  the  part  of  the  agent 
at  the  neighboring  railway  station  had  at  once  been 
forwarded.  I  told  Andrew  to  prepare  a  chamber. 
Furthermore  I  stated  that  I  would  hire  Antoine's 
cart  and  donkey  in  which  to  meet  and  convey  my 
guest  to  Lavouche.  Cart  and  donkey  were  well 
paired.  The  latter  might  be  conceived  to  have  been 
born  between  the  cart-shafts,  so  intimately  asso- 
ciated was  he  with  them.  He  was  the  single  animal 
in  the  village  larger  than  a  cat  or  dog,  and  with 
his  vehicle  was  the  sole  means  by  which  such  bales 
and  boxes  as  did  not  come  by  boat  were  brought  to 
Lavouche.  Papillon,  Butterfly,  was  the  gay  appel- 
lation which  his  master  had  bestowed  upon  him, 
doubtless  because  his  ears  approached  the  propor- 
tions of  wings.  He  had  a  round  little  body,  a  mouse- 
colored  coat,  a  mild  eye,  a  philosophical  disposition, 
and  ideas  of  his  own  on  what  constituted  the  neces- 
sary rate  of  speed. 


174  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

When  I  had  finished  breakfast,  I  walked  down 
to  the  wharf  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  The  rogue 
who  had  accompanied  me  about  yesterday  was  no- 
where to  be  seen;  apparently  he  would  not  risk 
what  Andrew  might  serve  him  for  a  morning  meal 
and  had  gone  to  the  village  to  break  his  fast. 
Dangling  my  feet  over  the  edge  of  the  little  wharf, 
I  smoked  my  pipe  and  observed  the  sea.  The  sun 
was  flashing  brightly  over  the  water,  gulls  were 
sweeping  about  or  floating  upon  the  surface,  sway- 
ing now  high,  now  low,  on  the  undulations  of  the 
swells.  Off  in  the  east  there  was  a  haze  of  smoke, 
which  thickened  until  I  could  make  out  the  hull  of 
a  vessel  but  not  its  lines.  For  half  an  hour  it  re- 
mained apparently  without  movement  and  was  still 
in  the  same  spot  when  I  rose  to  go  —  some  yacht 
or  steamer  that  had,  I  guessed,  encountered  a  mis- 
hap to  its  machinery.  A  gentle  breeze  ruffled  the 
surface  of  the  water  from  time  to  time.  Overhead 
thin  streamers  of  haze  drifted  across  the  sky, 
carrying  beneath  them  dim  shadows  upon  the  sea. 
After  a  final  look  I  returned  to  the  house,  where 
I  took  the  map  from  the  tankard  and  examined  it 
afresh. 

Now  that  it  had  been  seen  by  so  many  eyes,  it  had 
acquired  more  interest  in  mine;  I  traced  again  the 
lines  and  dots,  analyzed  anew  its  system  of  gun 
arrangement  and  defense,  and  read  once  more  the 
notes  upon  the  margin  inscribed  in  stiff  angular 
script.  Nothing  about  it  had  changed.  But  I 


THE   MESSAGE  175 

studied  it  more  closely  than  I  had  ever  done  before, 
with  an  eye  for  detail  and  for  its  distinguishing- 
peculiarities.  In  one  corner  of  the  sheet  was  drawn 
a  compass  to  adjust  the  fortress  relatively  to  points 
of  the  earth,  and  by  this  indicator  I  perceived  that 
the  major  number  of  guns  were  planted  in  their 
pits  so  as  to  hurl  shells  in  a  westerly  direction, 
though  of  course  they  could  be  swung  upon  their 
pedestals  to  any  point  of  the  horizon.  The  faces 
of  the  embrasures,  too,  indicated  that  in  case  of 
attack  it  might  be  expected  from  the  same  point, 
—  these  and  the  general  arrangements  of  defensive 
galleries  for  machine-guns  and  rifles.  On  the  right 
was  the  station  of  the  range-finders,  at  a  superior 
elevation  and  connected  with  the  gun-pits  by  tele- 
phone. Evidently  the  fortress  crowned  some  height 
that  commanded  a  sweep  of  space  to  westward; 
and  as  I  considered  the  import  of  this  fact  my 
opinion  that  it  was  a  German  military  work  became 
more  than  ever  confirmed.  France  lay  westward 
from  Germany. 

With  the  map  spread  before  me  I  could  not  help 
but  let  my  imagination  run  free  in  conjured  pic- 
tures of  that  armed  state  of  peace  made  significant 
by  the  line  which  separated  those  two  countries. 
One  summer  I  had  wandered  upon  the  precincts 
of  Alsace  and  Lorraine,  where  I  had  been  impressed 
by  the  silent,  alert  watchfulness  and  ever-present 
masses  of  soldiers.  From  a  distance  I  had  seen 
one  of  Germany's  fortifications,  yet  only  from  a 


176  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

distance,  as  visitors  were  not  permitted  to  visit  it. 
Always  there  was  evident  a  feeling  of  uncertainty, 
a  sense  of  expectancy,  that  sometime  France  would 
spring  upon  these  forts  in  an  endeavor  to  realize 
her  dream  of  recapturing  the  two  provinces. 

And  now  here  before  my  eyes  lay  what  France 
would  give  a  fortune  to  possess !  If  ever  war  were 
determined  upon,  she  would  have  with  it  the  key 
to  at  least  one  door ;  with  it  she  could  post  her  own 
guns  and  cast  her  bursting  shells  into  the  pits,  rush 
the  outpost  by  a  night  attack,  and  smash  through 
this  point  in  the  long  line  of  steel  that  bristled  along 
her  eastern  border  all  the  way  from  Belgium  up 
to  the  Alps.  Men  had  given,  and  still  would  give, 
their  lives  to  win  such  information  as  was  inscribed 
upon  this  piece  of  paper.  How  many  daring  spies, 
how  many  fearless  officers,  had  stolen  about  the  base 
of  these  bastions  or  penetrated  to  their  interior,  in 
the  end  to  be  caught,  tried,  and  delivered  to  an 
inglorious  death!  In  that  secret  and  vigilant  game 
which  nations  play  beneath  an  outward  manifesta- 
tion of  friendly  good-will,  there  is  neither  pause  nor 
leniency !  Spies  vanish,  and  the  game  goes  on.  One 
in  a  dozen  succeeds  in  small  measure,  one  in  a  thou- 
sand greatly.  Had  Frederick  Douglass,  that  cool 
and  canny  Scotchman,  been  the  thousandth  man? 
Or  had  he,  by  some  hook  or  crook,  come  at  an 
original  map?  That  seemed  even  more  impossible. 
Two  years  the  diagram  had  lain  idle  in  my  posses- 
sion ;  now,  as  if  light  and  air  exerted  upon  it  some 


THE    MESSAGE  177 

subtle  change  and  invested  it  with  an  active,  malig- 
nant character,  it  radiated  an  unnatural  influence 
and  evil  attraction.  Baron  Von  Hussman  desired 
it,  Seiior  Del  Hervalle  strove  for  it,  Lavouche  quar- 
reled over  it;  it  threatened  to  turn  this  quiet,  peace- 
ful island  into  an  isle  of  strife.  Like  one  of  those 
jewels  out  of  an  Indian  temple  accursed  by  being 
stolen  from  a  sacred  image,  it  promised  to  bestow 
harm  on  every  hand  that  touched  it.  Well,  if  such 
were  to  be  the  case,  I,  like  those  daring  pillagers 
who  had  got  their  ringers  on  the  Indian  gems,  would 
hold  it  the  tighter. 

Having  put  away  the  map,  I  strolled  out  upon  the 
path  which  led  through  the  wood  to  the  road.  The 
clear  fresh  air  full  of  odorous  scents  was  like  wine. 
Over  my  head  the  boughs  met  in  an  arch,  which 
made  my  advance  like  that  of  walking  along  the 
aisle  of  some  Gothic  cathedral;  no  thick  tangle  of 
underbrush  encumbered  the  prospect,  only  clumps 
of  bushes  grew  at  intervals,  through  which  one  had 
long,  green  mistily  lighted  vistas;  and  everywhere 
birds  twittered  and  sang,  while  lance-like  lines  of 
sunshine  shot  downward  through  apertures  in  the 
boughs.  I  startled  a  rabbit,  which  leaped  a  pace  or 
two,  sat  listening  for  a  moment  motionless  as  a 
stone  animal,  then  dove  suddenly  into  cover.  Shar- 
ing the  island  with  pines  and  hemlocks  were  foliaged 
trees,  here  and  there  an  oak  or  walnut  or  birch. 
Vines  of  the  trailing  arbutus  ran  underfoot,  while 
withes  of  wild  grape  climbed  and  hung  their 


178  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

bushy  garlands  on  high;  bluebells  shook  their  frag- 
ile cups  in  little  corners;  where  rock  cropped  out, 
moss  and  ferns  had  taken  root;  now  and  again 
one  beheld  some  fallen  monster  of  a  tree  that  had 
lived  its  time  and  toppled  over  and  now  lay  in  decay, 
the  habitation  of  colonies  of  insects.  On  this  morn- 
ing all  was  life,  all  was  brightness,  all  was  happiness 
in  the  hearts  of  these  wood-folk. 

Presently,  as  I  came  round  a  thicket,  I  perceived 
a  standing  figure  up  the  path,  which  I  recognized 
as  that  of  Betty.  A  wide-brimmed  garden  hat  of 
straw  was  upon  her  head,  her  dress  was  of  some 
simple  white  material;  in  one  hand  she  carried  a 
small  basket  in  which  were  wild  flowers,  the  other, 
closed,  was  held  to  her  cheek  in  thought.  She  did 
not  note  my  approach  until  I  was  before  her,  when 
with  a  start  she  dropped  her  hand. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Along  the  path,  to  be  sure." 

"  I  was  coming  to  see  you  —  and  yet  —  " 

"What,  Betty?" 

"  My  reason  seems  so  silly,  I  stopped.  I  could 
not  make  up  my  mind.  I  came  a  little  way,  and 
then  it  appeared  so  ridiculous  a  thing  to  do,  I  halted ; 
but  the  more  I  thought,  the  more  anxious  I  grew, 
and  came  on  again,  then  once  more  stopped,  and  I 
don't  know  what  to  think." 

"  Does  it  concern  me  ?  " 

"Yes;   oh,  do  be  careful,  Charlie!" 

"  Come,  tell  me  what 's  the  matter." 


THE    MESSAGE  179 

Her  blue  eyes  looked  into  mine,  her  lip  quivered 
the  barest  thing  in  the  world. 

"If  anything  happened  to  you  —  now."  Un- 
consciously she  put  out  her  hand  as  if  to  ward 
off  impending  danger.  I  caught  the  hand  in  mine. 

"  Would  you  care,  Betty  ?  " 

She  looked  confusedly  about,  sought  to  withdraw 
her  fingers,  then  her  eyes  came  back  to  mine.  A 
faint  flush  rose  and  faded  in  her  cheeks. 

"I  —  I  — "  she  began  at  last,  but  did  not 
finish. 

"  I  love  you,  as  you  know,  Betty,  have  always 
loved  you,  never  will  cease  to  love  you,  whatever 
may  happen  to  me." 

For  a  moment  she  stood  unmoving;  and  her  eyes 
widened  as  she  conjured  up  vague  and  unknown 
fears.  Her  fingers  tightened  on  mine.  Then  she 
drew  them  free,  she  dropped  her  basket  and  laid 
her  hands  upon  her  bosom. 

"If  anything  should  happen,"  she  said,  lifting 
her  face,  looking  up  at  the  wood  and  beyond  me 
into  a  distance  that  none  but  she  could  see,  "  now 
that  you  have  come  back,  now  that  you  have  come 
when  I  have  waited,  if  anything  should  happen  —  " 

She  ceased.  Her  face  remained  upheld,  pale,  still 
gazing  with  eyes  far  past  me. 

"You  love  me,  Betty?"  I  said,  low. 

"  It  would  break  my  heart  if  anything  happened." 

There  in  the  wood,  with  the  birds  caroling  about 
us,  dropping  liquid  notes  of  melody,  pouring  silver 


i8o  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

music  among  the  trees  with  the  sunshine  sifting 
in  bright  lines  and  slanting  bare  through  the 
branches,  with  all  the  air  filled  with  fragrance,  with 
all  the  world  atune  in  happiness,  I  learned  that  her 
love  was  mine.  The  great  joy  had  come.  I  held 
her  fast  in  my  embrace,  while  our  lips  met. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is  you  fear,  sweetheart,"  I 
said  at  last. 

"  That  warning  —  Margot  has  said  it  again,  *  Be- 
ware strange  doors.'  Early  this  morning  Stevens, 
our  servant,  went  to  the  village  on  an  errand  for 
the  kitchen  and  met  her.  She  stopped  and  said, 
'  Tell  these  words  to  Miss  Moore,  Beware  strange 
doors.'  That  was  all.  When  Stevens  asked  her  if 
there  was  not  something  further,  she  asked  to  have 
me  repeat  them  to  you.  Then  she  went  away. 
What  does  it  all  mean?  What  is  going  to  happen? 
Are  you  in  danger,  Charlie?  Is  your  life  threat- 
ened? Tell  me." 

I  remained  silent,  for  I  could  not  tell  her  all  I 
knew  and  all  I  suspected. 

"  She  is  a  singular  woman,"  said  I  at  last.  "  She 
may  know  a  little  of  something  and  her  imagination 
supply  the  rest." 

"  But  Mr.  Davis  —  he  too  knows  whatever  it  is, 
he  nearly  told  me  what  door  was  meant.  If  he 
only  had !  And  since  he  knows,  Senor  Del  Hervalle 
must  know ;  are  they  all  leagued  against  you  ?  Why 
is  it?  what  is  it?  Our  little  island  seems  to  have 
become  all  at  once  a  place  of  mystery." 


THE   MESSAGE  181 

"  All  will  turn  out  right,  Betty.  And  for  to-day 
at  least  I  have  nothing  to  fear.  This  afternoon  I  '11 
see  your  father  and  show  him  the  map;  I  think 
I  '11  tell  him  all  that  has  happened.  Then  I  shall 
go  with  Antoine's  donkey  to  meet  my  friend  who 
is  coming  —  he  will  be  here  to  help.  Besides,  I  have 
written  to  Jack  Maitland  and  Mr.  Fenton." 

"  They  're  coming  ?  " 

"  I  think  they  will,"  I  answered  with  a  smile. 
For  I  could  hardly  imagine  anything  stopping  them 
when  it  was  a  question  of  Del  Hervalle.  "  So  you 
see  that  things  are  not  so  bad,  after  all.  When  they 
have  arrived,  we  shall  clear  up  the  whole  business 
—  Senor  Del  Hervalle  and  all." 

But  she  was  yet  uneasy. 

"  Something  tells  me  —  a  premonition  —  that  you 
are  in  danger.  And  those  words,  those  strange 
words ! " 

"  I  '11  look  very  carefully  at  all  the  doors  I  enter, 
even  my  own." 

For  a  time  we  walked  forward,  moving  a  little 
way  and  halting.  Her  hand  was  in  mine,  her  lips 
had  been  lifted  to  mine,  she  had  acknowledged  that 
her  love  was  mine.  What  more  could  I  ask?  Con- 
tent filled  my  heart  and  a  great  happiness.  Of 
danger  I  ceased  to  think,  of  the  intrigues  of  Senor 
Del  Hervalle,  of  the  malice  of  his  secretary,  of  the 
warning  given  by  Margot,  of  the  braggings  of  Pilon, 
of  the  suspicions  of  the  village.  I  had  the  love  of 
the  girl  who  walked  beside  me;  let  the  world  run 


182  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

as  it  would,  I  was  content.  Stooping,  I  plucked  a 
sprig  of  arbutus,  brushed  it  of  dust,  and  divided 
it.  Half  I  gave  to  Betty,  half  I  kept.  It  would  be 
the  memento  of  this  day,  of  this  hour,  when  we 
plighted  our  troth.  So  long  as  we  lived  we  should 
keep  the  halves;  though  they  should  wither,  our 
love  should  keep  them  fresh  and  we  would  treasure 
them  as  most  precious.  Those  radiant  minutes  were 
all  too  short.  Would  that  we  could  stroll  on 
through  this  wood,  said  I,  until  time  ceased,  with 
only  the  trees  and  sunshine  and  ourselves!  But 
at  last  Betty  stated  that  she  must  return.  Once 
more  softly  she  told  me  she  loved  me,  stood  close 
in  my  embrace,  and  pressed  her  warm  lips  on  mine, 
then  departed.  Up  the  path  she  tripped,  paused  to 
waft  me  a  kiss  with  her  hand,  and  was  lost  to 
sight. 

How  long  I  stood  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy  of  delight 
I  know  not.  No  thought  ran  in  my  mind;  I  re- 
mained in  a  condition  of  rapture,  knowing,  feeling, 
but  not  reasoning  withal,  that  a  great  joy  had  de- 
scended as  from  heaven  and  wrapped  me  round  in 
a  shining  garment  Gradually  I  returned  to  earth. 
I  became  aware  of  a  man  standing  a  little  way  off 
by  a  tree.  He  slouched  on  his  feet,  he  smiled  a 
furtive  smile  and  scratched  his  nose. 

"  How  long  have  you  stood  there ! "  I  roared. 

"  Some  time,  monsieur,"  he  smirked,  approaching. 

"You  scoundrel!" 

"  Yes,  monsieur !  " 


THE    MESSAGE  183 

"  You  villain !  " 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  You  under-sized,  crooked- faced,  eaves-dropping, 
invidious  son  of  a  degenerate  cockroach ! " 

"  At  your  service,  monsieur.     And,  monsieur  ?  " 

"What?"  I  thundered. 

"  Will  you  kindly  repeat  that  statement  ?  That 
is  a  very  fine  account.  I  have  never  had  the  honor 
of  being  addressed  by  that  name.  If  monsieur  will 
repeat  that  admirable  collection  ?  "  And  he  waited, 
pert,  impudent,  head  cocked  on  one  side  at  at- 
tention. 

"Were  you  there  all  the  time?"  I  questioned 
fiercely. 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  calculating  eye. 

"  No,  monsieur,  I  am  but  just  come." 

"  You  are  a  rogue." 

"  Possibly." 

"  And  an  incorrigible  scamp." 

"  Probably,  monsieur." 

Nothing  could  perturb  such  effrontery.  I  turned 
on  my  heel  and  set  out  for  home.  To  have  this 
fellow  for  a  spectator  of  our  love!  It  was  like 
a  gutter-snipe  peering  through  a  window  at  one's 
most  sacred  rite.  I  was  in  no  mood  for  his  brazen 
wit,  and  as  I  strode  through  the  wood  let  him  follow 
as  best  he  might ;  the  jest  of  having  him  accompany 
me  about  had  on  a  sudden  lost  its  savor. 

"  Pardon,  monsieur,  I  should  have  arrived 
earlier,"  he  began  politely,  at  my  heels. 


184  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  You  were  early  enough,  as  it  was,"  I  said 
significantly. 

"  Earlier,  monsieur,  if  I  had  not  been  delayed  by 
a  little  accident  which  occurred  in  the  village.  You 
would  not  be  interested  in  it  ?  " 

We  walked  a  distance. 

"  What  accident  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  one  of  the  fishermen  hurt.  You  would  not, 
as  I  say,  be  interested.  It  was  only  that  Jean  —  " 

"  What,  Jean !  "  I  stopped. 

"  Yes,  but  what  matter  ?  Have  you  any  more 
of  those  exquisite  cigarettes  in  your  house,  master?  " 

I  caught  him  by  the  shoulder  and  shook  him. 

"  Never  mind  about  the  cigarettes.  Tell  me  of 
Jean,  and  be  quick !  " 

His  smile  came  and  went.  He  changed  from  one 
foot  to  the  other  and  looked  at  the  ground. 

"  One  dollar,  monsieur,  if  you  please." 

"  You  miserable  leech,"  I  exclaimed,  shaking  him 
till  he  rattled,  "  you  will  get  no  dollar." 

"  But  a  cigarette  then,  is  it  not  so  ?  "  Even  after 
the  handling  I  had  given  him  he  could  bargain. 

"  Tell  your  news,  then  we  shall  see." 

Well,  it  appeared  that  Jean  and  Pilon  had  that 
morning  got  into  a  squabble  over  the  subject  of 
myself  and  become  angry.  Pilon,  the  joker,  had 
let  a  boom  swing  on  Jean  as  the  latter  stooped  over 
his  boat  in  launching  it.  Pilon  denied  all  intent  to 
commit  harm,  maintaining  the  event  was  an  acci- 
dent, but  Jean's  back  was  injured  and  his  ribs 


THE    MESSAGE  185 

splintered  so  they  stuck  into  his  lungs  like  bristles 
in  a  pig's  back  (so  related  Esper),  and  he  had 
groaned  out  that  he  wished  to  see  me.  Now,  would 
we  go  to  my  house  and  get  cigarettes? 

"  Cigarettes,  no.    I  go  to  Jean,"  I  answered. 

The  outrage  committed  by  Pilon  made  my  blood 
boil.  Of  all  persons  in  Lavouche  none  held  so  great 
a  place  in  my  affections  as  this  boyhood  friend, 
Jean,  and  now  he  had  been  basely  injured,  perhaps 
crippled  for  life,  by  that  ruffian  Pilon.  How  long 
Lavouche  would  tolerate  the  latter  and  his  com- 
panions I  did  not  know,  but  if  it  lay  in  my  power 
they  should  immediately  be  driven  from  the  village. 
Further,  a  surgeon  should  be  sent  for  at  once;  I 
should  dispatch  a  messenger  immediately  to  the 
railway  station  with  a  telegram  for  one  at  St.  John 
or  Portland.  Jean  injured,  perhaps  dying!  I  hur- 
ried on  up  the  path  and  into  the  wood,  Esper  patter- 
ing behind  me.  While  I  had  been  so  happy,  my  good 
friend  lay  suffering.  It  seemed  too  dreadful  that 
the  finest  young  man  of  them  all,  so  tall  and  straight 
and  strong  and  honest,  should  be  sacrificed  by  a 
trick,  by  the  treacherous  blow  of  such  a  scoundrel 
as  Pilon. 

When  we  came  to  the  street,  it  was  quiet,  empty. 
I  knew  the  philosophical  mind  of  the  village  in  the 
matter  of  receiving  accidents  as  in  accepting  drown- 
ings;  such  were  the  acts  of  God,  they  believed, 
therefore  the  folk  continued  to  fish.  After  carrying 
Jean  up  to  his  house,  leaving  one  or  two  persons 


i86  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

to  render  what  assistance  they  could,  and  one  to 
make  sail  down  the  coast  for  a  doctor,  the  rest  of 
the  men  would  go  about  their  regular  duties  of 
beating  out  to  the  seining  grounds.  All  was  singu- 
larly peaceful  as  we  advanced ;  old  Gaspard  worked 
in  his  shop  over  a  boat,  with  bent  head;  at  a  door 
played  two  children;  madame  at  the  inn-window 
sat  with  gaze  apparently  fixed  on  her  moving 
needles. 

Suddenly  Esper  plucked  me  by  the  elbow.  I 
stopped. 

"  They  have  taken  him  in  here.  There  is  room 
and  a  table  on  which  he  can  lie  while  the  bones  are 
picked  out  of  his  liver." 

"Pilon's  house?" 

"  To  be  sure.  At  this  place  he  was  seized  with 
great  agony  and  could  be  moved  no  further." 

Ah,  that  was  it!  A  queer  twist  of  irony,  in 
truth,  that  he  should  lie  in  the  house  of  the  man 
who  had  wrought  his  hurt. 

I  stepped  upon  the  doorsill.  The  door  stood  half 
open  and  I  could  see  into  the  room. 

"  Enter,  monsieur,  enter,"  said  Esper,  gently 
pressing  me  with  his  hand. 

The  room  was  empty.  Nowhere  was  there  a 
table,  or  men,  or  Jean  wounded  and  in  pain.  Sur- 
prised, I  gazed  at  the  open  door  —  it  was  a  solid 
door,  studded  with  heavy  nail  heads  as  I  had  before 
often  noted.  Flashed  into  my  mind  the  warning  of 
Margot,  Beware  strange  doors!  But  before  I  could 


THE   MESSAGE  187 

turn  Esper  dealt  me  a  violent  push  between  the  shoul- 
ders and  I  stumbled  headlong.  A  blanket  was  cast 
over  my  head.  Hands  seized  my  wrists,  jerked  them 
back,  while  a  laugh  sounded  in  my  muffled  ears. 
Then  the  door  slammed  behind  me. 


CHAPTER    XI 

BEWARE   STRANGE  DOORS ! 

I  struggled  fiercely  to  free  myself.  But  strong 
hands  held  me  and  I  was  at  a  disadvantage;  the 
blanket  which  had  been  cast  over  my  head  was  not 
a  fresh  one,  being  full  of  dust  that  got  into  my  eyes 
and  lungs  and  made  them  burn  as  with  pepper.  Still 
the  contest  was  not  all  on  one  side,  for  I  fought  as 
a  man  fights  for  his  life.  So  about  the  room  we 
swayed  and  dragged  and  whirled,  now  smack 
against  the  door,  now  bump  against  the  wall,  now 
thump  over  the  table.  Blindly  I  strove  to  direct 
the  fight  to  the  window,  where  by  hurling  one  or 
another  of  us  against  the  frame  I  should  smash  the 
panes  and  arouse  passers-by  or  neighbors  by  the 
clatter;  but  I  had  lost  all  sense  of  direction,  and 
moreover  my  captors  pushed  my  threshing  body  as 
well  as  they  were  able  towards  the  rear  of  the  room. 

Such  an  unequal  contest  could  not  long  be  main- 
tained. Finally  one  assailant  who  had  been  hang- 
ing upon  my  back  with  the  tenacity  and  the  dead 
weight  of  a  veritable  Old  Man  of  the  Sea  got  his 
arm  under  my  chin,  forced  back  my  head,  and 
choked  out  of  my  frame  both  breath  and  resistance. 
Then  a  rope  was  hastily  wound  around  my  body, 


BEWARE    STRANGE    DOORS!        189 

a  curse  and  a  kick  administered,  and  I  was  half  led, 
half  dragged  up  the  stair,  along  the  upper  floor,  up 
a  second  flight  of  steps,  and  into  what  I  knew  must 
be  the  upper  story.  There  I  was  thrust  upon  a  stool. 
All  the  while  I  kept  silent;  indeed,  it  was  only  by 
an  effort  that  I  could  gain  my  breath  and  keep  from 
stifling  in  the  foul  folds  of  the  blanket.  Afterwards, 
while  I  was  held  in  a  rigid  position,  the  rope  was 
readjusted  so  as  to  bind  me  to  my  seat,  then  the 
blanket  was  jerked  off  my  head. 

Pilon  and  Esper  and  Descarte  stood  before  me, 
disheveled,  sweating,  and  still  breathing  heavily 
from  their  exertions.  A  deep  scratch  furrowed 
one  of  Descarte's  cheeks  where  I  had  shut  my  hand 
on  it  and  worked  minor  damages;  he  wiped  the 
dripping  blood  with  a  rag,  shooting  wicked  glances 
my  way  and  muttering  to  himself.  Esper  wore  his 
furtive,  flickering  smile  and  showed  least  effect  of 
the  contest,  for  he  it  was  who  had  hung  on  my  back 
and  thus  remained  out  of  the  chief  current  of  the 
struggle.  The  leader,  Pilon,  stood  in  front;  he 
rested  his  hands  on  his  hips,  panting  and  for  the 
moment  beyond  speech. 

"  Mon  Dieu!  That  was  a  merry  dance,"  Esper 
remarked  airily.  "  My  compliments,  comrade,  but 
it  was  hopeless,  eh?  You  should  have  taken  the 
matter  calmly.  Observe,  you  do  not  look  exactly 
like  a  gentleman  now." 

I  dare  say  I  must  have  looked  a  ruffian.  Per- 
spiration streamed  down  my  face,  washing  rivulets 


I9o  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

through  the  dust  on  my  cheeks ;  my  hair  stood  every 
way,  and  my  clothes  were  in  a  state  of  high  dis- 
order—  collar  rumpled,  tie  gone,  coat  ripped;  but 
I  had  the  satisfaction  of  perceiving  that  while  I 
had  suffered  in  appearances  Pilon  and  Descarte  had 
also  paid  good  toll. 

This  was  small  comfort  however.  I  was  a  pris- 
oner—  beware  of  strange  doors  indeed!  I  had 
walked  neatly  into  the  trap  which  had  been  set 
for  me,  come  like  a  bird  to  the  snare.  Of  all  doors 
in  Lavouche  to  hold  danger  for  me,  there  was  none 
save  this  of  Pilon's  house;  I  should  have  known 
that.  And  Del  Hervalle's  plot  was  forward  at  last. 
Where  I  might  be  on  the  morrow  was  a  thought 
from  which  I  shrank;  I  was  in  the  power  of  my 
enemies  —  my  life  was  in  jeopardy. 

I  looked  about  my  prison.  The  room  was,  as  I 
have  stated,  the  third  and  uppermost  story  of  the 
house,  indeed  a  sort  of  attic.  High  at  the  peak, 
the  sloping  sides  of  the  roof  descended  to  within 
two  feet  of  the  floor  before  joining  the  walls;  a 
decrepit  and  weather-worn  roof,  of  which  the  beams 
had  fallen  into  decay  and  sagged  inward;  holes 
were  in  it,  and  here  and  there  I  could  see  bits  of  the 
outside  sunlight,  while  shining  patches  and  bars 
dropped  downward  like  yellow  lances  into  the  dusty 
interior.  In  the  slope  of  roof  which  faced  towards 
the  street  there  were  two  dormer  windows,  but  these 
had  been  roughly  boarded  up  to  the  level  of  a  man's 
eyes,  evidently  in  preparation  for  my  occupancy, 


BEWARE    STRANGE   DOORS!        191 

and  in  consequence  the  light  throughout  the  room 
was  dim.  A  stone  chimney  ran  up  one  wall;  for 
furniture  there  were  a  couple  of  stools,  besides 
mine,  and  in  one  corner  a  musty  pallet  which  appar- 
ently had  lain  there  a  long  time.  Not  a  cheerful 
room. 

Pilon  moved  towards  the  door. 

"  Come,  we  will  go,"  he  said.  "  This  job  is 
finished." 

But  Esper  halted  him. 

"Are  not  our  throats  dusty?"  he  asked.  "Are 
they  not  dry  as  Sahara?  Since  I  attached  myself 
to  the  person  of  Monsieur  Woodworth  I  have  dis- 
covered him  to  be  a  thoughtful  and  generous  patron. 
Would  it  not  be  well  to  drink  a  cup  of  wine  to  his 
good  health?" 

He  looked  slyly  at  his  leader,  who  burst  into 
laughter  and  turned  about. 

"  Thou  weasel !    Make  speed  and  search  him." 

With  a  request  for  my  pardon  and  again  a  double 
pardon  Esper  tapped  my  pockets  and  introduced  his 
fingers  into  their  interior  with  all  the  deftness  of  a 
pickpocket,  in  which  capacity  he  had  evidently  long 
before  made  himself  proficient.  Little  reward  for 
him,  a  dollar  or  two,  a  few  quarters;  there  was 
seldom  occasion  in  Lavouche  to  carry  any  con- 
siderable amount  of  money.  He  sucked  his  lips 
in  disappointment. 

"  And  after  the  service  I  rendered  you,  mon- 
sieur ?  "  he  reproached. 


!I92  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  Fetch  it,  it  is  enough,"  Pilon  said. 

Esper  ran  his  eyes  over  me.  He  had  an  inspira- 
tion. A  small  gold  chain,  now  hanging  broken  from 
my  waistcoat  pocket,  attracted  his  favor  and  aroused 
his  avarice. 

"  Ah,  this  I  will  keep  to  remember  our  pleasant 
acquaintance,"  remarked  he,  extracting  my  watch. 

It  was  a  good  watch,  indeed  a  valuable  watch, 
which  I  had  purchased  in  Switzerland,  a  perfect 
time-keeper,  slim  and  light  and  with  my  monogram 
in  jewels  upon  the  back. 

A  great  joy  lighted  Esper's  face.  "  Oh,  so  kind 
a  monsieur ! "  he  exclaimed. 

Pilon  thrust  out  his  hand  gluttonously.  "  Give 
it  here,  quick !  " 

Esper  drew  back,  clutching  his  spoil.  An  evil, 
desperate  rage  distorted  his  face;  he  spat  out  a 
stream  of  foul  biting  curses.  Pilon  advanced  a 
step,  lifting  his  heavy  fist,  while  Descarte,  who  all 
the  while  had  been  busying  himself  staunching  his 
wound  and  leaving  conversation  to  the  others, 
dropped  his  rag  and  joined  the  leader. 

"  It  is  as  monsieur  said,"  my  erstwhile  little  body- 
guard snapped,  "  you  drink  all  the  cream.  See,  I 
found  it ;  I  will  keep  it." 

Descarte  spoke.  "  What  one  finds,  all  find.  We 
will  sell  it  and  divide." 

"  Yes,  we  will  divide,"  Pilon  added. 

But  Esper  had  the  watch  in  his  hand,  his 
rat-like  eyes  darted  from  one  to  the  other  of  the 


BEWARE    STRANGE   DOORS!        193 

men,  his  long  sharp  nose  was  twisted  more  than 
ever  on  one  side  in  access  of  spite.  He  did  not 
answer. 

"  Thou  pig,  give  it  to  Pilon,"  Descarte  said 
harshly. 

He  was  not  a  pleasant  man  to  look  at,  this 
Descarte,  sullen,  brutal;  he  had  none  of  diminutive 
Esper's  redeeming  wit  or  Pilon's  braggadocio.  A 
black  close-cropped  beard  covered  his  face;  he  was 
swarthy,  slow,  savage,  and  wore  a  brass  ring  in  his 
left  ear.  The  pair  of  them  crowded  in  on  their 
small  mate  as  they  talked,  forcing  him  to  give  way 
before  their  advance;  there  was  a  method  in  their 
movements  as  well  as  in  their  argument.  I  saw 
them  exchange  a  rapid  glance  of  understanding,  of 
agreement,  and  they  pressed  him  step  by  step  until 
he  stood  with  his  back  against  the  wall  in  the  corner 
by  the  chimney. 

"  We  will  divide,  Esper,"  Pilon  repeated. 

For  answer  Esper  produced  a  knife  and  held  it 
ready.  Calmly  the  two  before  him  likewise  drew 
weapons.  The  little  man  waited  with  twitching 
face,  his  old  smile  coming  and  going  upon  his  lips ; 
he  was  outnumbered  and  they  had  harried  him  into 
the  angle  as  dogs  harry  a  cat.  Nothing  was  spoken. 
The  old  room  under  the  sagging  roof  seemed  filled 
with  a  sudden  hush.  Then  the  imminent  tragedy 
evaporated  as  mist  does  on  sea.  Esper  put  away  his 
knife;  Pilon  and  Descarte  slipped  theirs  out  of 
sight. 


194  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  We  shall  divide,"  said  Esper  quietly,  and  he 
handed  the  watch  to  Pi  Ion. 

The  latter  looked  at  Descarte,  smiling;  Descarte 
grinned  back  at  Pilon  in  return.  A  flash  of  fury 
for  an  instant  lighted  their  victim's  face  as  he  per- 
ceived the  exchange,  then  it  was  gone  and  he  ap- 
peared impassive. 

"  Bravo,  my  little  Esper,"  Pilon  said,  dropping 
the  watch  into  his  pocket  and  patting  the  little  man 
upon  the  shoulder.  "  Thou  art  as  generous  of  milk 
as  a  fat  wench,"  with  which  Rabelaisian  jest  he 
again  patted  Esper.  "  We  will  divide  and  mean- 
while drink  a  glass  of  cognac."  He  strode  to  me. 
"  Ho,  is  a  son  of  a  dog  to  look  on  with  eyes  open 
at  our  little  family  matters?  Shut  them  hereafter, 
thou ! "  And  he  dealt  me  a  blow  upon  the  side  of 
the  head  that  made  my  cranium  ache. 

And  the  three  of  them  went  out  of  the  room, 
locking  the  door  after  them. 

I  now  had  full  leisure  for  meditation.  The  peril 
in  which  I  stood  —  for  peril  it  was,  though  I  was 
left  to  guess  what  particular  form  it  would  later 
assume  —  was  too  plain  to  be  ignored.  To  cajole 
myself  with  false  hopes,  to  say  that  my  captors  dare 
not  do  me  bodily  injury,  that  they  must  eventually 
set  me  free,  would  have  been  the  height  of  stupidity. 
What  if  this  were  simple  Lavouche !  What  if  it 
were  on  the  civilized  coast  of  Maine !  Is  crime  less 
frequent  to-day  than  yesterday,  or  does  it  choose 
the  spot  ?  Del  Hervalle  would  no  more  take  account 


BEWARE    STRANGE   DOORS!        195 

of  the  village  Lavouche  than  he  would  of  a  passing 
cloud;  if  he  had  determined  to  put  me  out  of  the 
way,  he  would  do  so  here  with  as  little  impunity 
as  he  would  in  the  heart  of  a  desert. 

What  a  cold-blooded,  determined,  complacent  vil- 
lain he  was!  Remorse  he  had  none,  conscience  he 
had  none;  but  all  the  qualities  of  subtlety,  persist- 
ence, patience,  coolness,  cunning,  expedience,  re- 
sourcefulness, ingenuity,  and  daring  —  all  these  he 
had  in  abundance.  Could  a  person  have  spread 
open  the  book  of  his  life  and  turned  it  leaf  by  leaf, 
scanned  it  page  by  page,  marked  each  dark  para- 
graph, what  a  record  of  crime  it  would  have  made! 
Even  the  small  knowledge  which  I  had  of  him 
showed  the  man  always  to  be  dealing  in  evil.  At 
Forge  he  had  flitted  about  like  a  vampire,  carrying 
death;  in  Venezuela  who  could  tell  what  sins  were 
his;  and  now  here  on  the  coast  of  Maine  he  had 
turned  this  quiet  little  isle  into  an  island  of  con- 
tention. Blood  had  always  marked  his  footsteps  — 
would  he  depart  leaving  this  island  rock  thus  simi- 
larly stained?  Del  Hervalle  —  D'Urville  —  who- 
ever he  rightfully  was,  would  Heaven  allow  him 
to  perpetrate  yet  another  infamous  deed  and  to  go 
his  way  undiscovered  and  unpunished?  I  began  to 
think  so.  More,  I  began  to  think  that  apparently 
I  was  to  afford  him  the  opportunity  of  keeping  his 
hand  in  practice  while  on  his  holiday. 

Escape  from  the  attic  seemed  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. The  rope  with  which  I  was  bound  was  of 


196  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

stout  manila,  weathered  and  brine-soaked;  its 
makers  would  have  been  astonished,  no  doubt,  had 
they  known  to  what  use  it  was  being  put.  It  was 
wrapped  about  me  in  a  score  of  turns,  binding  my 
arms  firm  against  my  sides  and  my  legs  to  the 
rounds  of  the  chair;  but  even  if  I  had  been  free 
I  would  still  have  found  it  difficult  to  make  my  way 
out  of  the  house.  The  door  was  without  panels, 
constructed  of  oak  boards  running  straight  up  and 
down  in  a  plain,  stout,  good  old-fashioned  way.  To 
be  sure,  I  might  have  forced  a  passage  through  a 
window,  or  by  several  lusty  kicks  burst  a  hole 
through  the  roof,  but  in  either  case  it  would  have 
been  to  coast  over  the  eave  to  a  drop  upon  the  pave- 
ment below.  And  Senor  Del  Hervalle  would  have 
raised  no  objection  to  that. 

Of  these  things  I  thought  and  of  many  others 
during  the  subsequent  hours.  My  arms  ached  from 
their  cinctures  and  my  spine  from  its  rigid  position, 
while  my  mind  grew  weary.  A  dim  room  and  a 
blank  wall,  a  tottery  roof  and  two  squat  stools  for 
companions,  may  be  interesting  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances or  for  a  limited  period  of  time  —  I  had 
in  addition  the  prospect  of  a  near  and  exciting  de- 
mise; but  of  the  former  I  quickly  tired,  and  even 
of  speculating  upon  what  form  or  at  what  time  or 
in  what  particular  place  and  with  what  interesting 
sufferings  death  may  be  accompanied,  one  may  be- 
come bored. 

Pilon  it  was  who  finally  unlocked  the  door.    He 


BEWARE    STRANGE    DOORS!        197 

had  been  drinking  much  of  madame's  brandy  pur- 
chased with  my  money,  and  was  not  inclined,  also 
at  my  expense,  to  be  merry. 

"  Aha,  monsieur,  what  a  pity  that  you  cannot 
go  and  paint  again  the  little  boat !  "  he  cried,  throw- 
ing himself  upon  a  stool.  "  You  're  not  so  busy 
to-day  and  you  now  have  time  to  listen  to  Pilon." 

"  Have  you  wrung  the  water  out  of  your  clothes 
yet  ?  "  I  inquired  politely. 

He  gave  an  upward  flirt  of  his  moustache. 

"  They  are  much  drier,  even  without  wringing, 
than  yours  will  be  presently,  my  little  man.  You 
are  fresh,  too  fresh,  for  a  mackerel  who  has  been 
nicely  haled  in  the  net.  Therefore  I  have  been  con- 
sidering while  I  sat  over  my  petit  cognac,  con- 
sidering how  Pilon  might  remove  the  freshness." 
He  fixed  his  bloodshot  eyes  upon  me  with  an  air 
of  wisdom.  "  What  is  it  we  fishermen  do  with 
the  mackerel  we  catch,  the  nice  fat  mackerel  that 
we  want  to  keep?  Lavouche  is  famous  for  its 
mackerel,  and  therefore  when  we  have  the  most 
famous  fresh  mackerel  of  all  we  must  be  very  care- 
ful to  keep  him  from  spoiling.  Answer  Pilon,  little 
man,  and  tell  him  what  it  is  the  fishermen  do  ?  "  As 
I  made  no  reply,  he  continued,  lifting  one  hand  and 
spreading  his  sunburnt  fingers :  "  First,  they  take 
the  fish  and  hold  it  so,  between  thumb  and  finger, 
under  the  gills,  yes.  Then  they  take  a  sharp  knife 
and  with  a  single  stroke  they  slit  the  belly  and 
clean  it,  behold,  quickly  as  fishermen  know  how  — 


198  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

Oh,  Sacre  Dieu,  what  a  jest  it  is,  this  for  Pilon ! " 
He  leaned  back,  roaring  with  laughter.  "  And  then 
they  put  the  good  fish  in  brine  to  keep,  if  necessary 
for  many  years." 

"  Is  that  intended  as  a  parable  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  paused,  surprised.  "  That  parable,  what  is 
that,  monsieur  ?  " 

"  A  story  intended  to  point  a  moral.'* 

A  smile  of  understanding  broke  over  his  face. 

"  You  are  an  intelligent  mackerel,"  said  he. 

"  And  when  will  this  event  occur  ?  " 

"  We  shall  have  the  honor  of  conducting  you  into 
pickle  to-night." 

"  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  will  leave  it  in  your  hands, 
I  presume  ?  " 

His  brows  went  up  with  a  simulated  air  of  not 
catching  my  meaning. 

"Sefior  Del  Hervalle?" 

"  The  little  gentleman  who  called  on  you  a  couple 
of  days  ago." 

"  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  —  a  visit  here,  how  droll !  " 

"  Very,"  said  I  dryly. 

"  Pilon  will  do  what  is  necessary,"  said  he. 

There  was  little  to  expect  from  him  in  the  way 
of  mercy.  Now  if  it  had  been  Esper!  For  Esper 
was  a  fellow  who  had  a  proper  understanding  of  the 
value  of  money,  as  I  had  discovered.  Pilon,  on  the 
contrary,  while  avaricious  was  vain,  and  in  this  par- 
ticular business  he  fed  his  vanity  by  believing  him- 
self my  master.  Moreover  he  hated  me;  the  desire 


BEWARE    STRANGE   DOORS!        199 

for  revenge  for  the  insult  I  had  heaped  on  him 
was  strong;  added  to  this  was  a  natural  strain  of 
brutality,  a  love  of  cruelty;  and  altogether  I  had 
not  much  of  compassion  to  hope  for  from  the  man. 

Presently  he  resumed  his  satirical  monologue. 
It  was  very  unfortunate,  very  unfortunate,  he  ex- 
plained, that  I  could  have  no  dinner,  neither  supper, 
for  fasting  is  necessary  to  prepare  the  spirit  for  its 
long  journey  to  Heaven.  Did  not  priests  and  monks 
fast  even  once  a  week  for  the  benefit  of  their  souls  ? 
And  they  did  not  grow  thin,  not  they,  they  were  as 
fat  as  capons ;  it  was  desirable  that  I  should  imitate 
the  priests;  and  with  an  irreverent  leer  he  rose  to 
his  feet.  He  however  must  eat,  he  and  Descarte 
and  Esper,  for  though  they  were  not  going  on  any. 
journey  except  a  little  way  out  to  sea  that  night 
and  afterwards  back  to  Lavouche,  nevertheless  since 
that  was  a  journey  on  this  earth  and  not  to  Heaven 
food  was  needed  for  their  insides  as  fuel  is  needed 
for  engines  or  wind  for  sails. 

So  saying,  he  stretched  his  arms  above  his  head 
and  yawned.  Then  he  approached  to  examine  my 
bonds. 

"  Be  not  too  lively,  my  mackerel,  while  Pilon  is 
gone,"  he  said,  giving  me  a  playful  cuff. 

When  he  had  departed,  I  digested,  in  lieu  of 
dinner,  the  information  which  he  had  conveyed. 
I  did  not  like  the  nature  of  the  food;  it  had  a  bad 
taste,  and  as  I  recalled  his  vivid  description  of  the 
fishermen  preparing  a  mackerel  for  brine  a  shiver 


200  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

ran  over  me.  To  be  trussed  up  in  this  fashion  by 
a  set  of  scoundrels,  to  be  carried  out  to  sea,  to  have 
my  throat  cut  and  be  dumped  into  the  ocean  —  I 
raged  at  my  impotence.  Let  me  have  but  a  knife  or 
a  club  or  even  but  my  bare  fists  —  and  let  me  stand 
free !  I  then  should  die  as  a  man  should  die,  resist- 
ing his  enemies.  But  to  go  out  of  the  world  in 
this  fashion! 

Night  —  it  was  now  only  noon.  Twelve  hours! 
Was  it  meant,  after  all,  that  with  all  the  strength 
and  brains  God  had  given  me  I  was  to  sit  here 
helpless  twelve  hours?  By  Heaven,  I  would  burst 
the  rope  but  what  I  should  be  free !  I  sprang  to  my 
feet.  Next  instant  I  found  myself  sprawling  on  my 
side,  the  chair  atop  of  me ;  for  ropes  are  not  broken 
by  exclamations.  I  had  forgotten  that  the  rope  held 
my  legs  to  those  of  the  chair,  and  my  convulsive 
leap  precipitated  me  headlong  upon  the  floor.  Thus 
does  best  endeavor  come  often  to  a  ridiculous  posi- 
tion. Gradually  I  wormed  my  legs  downward  until 
my  bonds  gathered  about  my  knees,  and  rising  I 
was  able,  still  bearing  my  burden  of  a  chair  with 
me,  to  move  forward  after  a  fashion. 

Pilon  might  be  a  braggart,  but  he  could  tie  devil- 
ishly secure  knots. 


CHAPTER   XII 

WHAT   MAY   BE   SEEN   FROM   A  WINDOW 

By  standing  on  tiptoe  at  one  or  the  other  of  the 
two  windows  I  could  see  over  the  topmost  of  the 
boards  nailed  across  the  embrasures  and  look  down 
upon  the  street.  About  eighteen  inches  of  the  panes 
remained  unsheathed  to  allow  light  to  penetrate  to 
the  interior,  but  the  glass  was  dusty  and  through  it 
objects  appeared  shadowed  and  dim.  Moreover  it 
is  not  an  easy  matter  long  to  maintain  a  position  on 
the  tips  of  your  toes  while  your  hands  are  bound  to 
your  sides  and  a  chair  is  hung  like  a  rudder  at  your 
back;  it  would  require  the  skill  of  an  acrobat  and 
the  endurance  of  a  Chinese  burden-bearer.  The 
opacity  of  the  window-pane  I  somewhat  lessened 
by  using  the  point  of  my  nose ;  to  be  sure,  my  nose 
must  have  suffered  in  appearance,  but  the  glass  as  a 
medium  of  vision  was  improved.  In  the  window 
lay,  I  felt,  my  salvation,  if  there  were  to  be  any. 
Some  passer-by  would  glance  up  and  see  me  was 
my  first  wild  hope,  but  on  reflection  the  odds  against 
this  weighed  me  with  despair,  for  no  one  would 
be  able  to  do  so  through  the  dirt  and  cobwebs. 

I  had  intermittent  views  of  the  opposite  house  and 
a  portion  of  the  street,  views  measured  by  the 


202  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

length  of  time  I  could  sustain  myself  in  the  delicate 
position  demanded.  Lavouche  is  not  a  bustling  vil- 
lage ;  in  fact,  it  is  during  the  middle  of  the  day  not- 
ably quiet ;  and  for  the  most  part  I  had  the  opposite 
dwelling,  whose  dormer  window  stared  steadfastly 
at  me,  as  my  sole  reward. 

It  was  the  sound  of  the  key  turning  in  the  lock 
that  brought  me  back  with  a  start.  Hurriedly  I 
moved  a  few  steps  from  the  window,  for  I  would 
not  have  them  suspect  my  occupation. 

Sefior  Del  Hervalle  entered  and  came  forward. 

"  And  now  for  a  little  conversation,  monsieur," 
he  said  without  preliminaries. 

"  At  your  service,"  I  answered  ironically. 

"  I  wish  to  discuss  the  subject  of  the  map."  He 
moved  briskly  across  the  room  and  brought  for- 
ward a  stool  —  I  had  already  assumed  my  sitting 
position  without  volition.  "  We  have  had  a  differ- 
ence of  opinion,  Monsieur  Woodworth,  as  to  the 
ownership  of  this  document.  You  are  a  young  man 
of  intelligence;  it  should  not  be  necessary  to  point 
out  to  you  that  my  equity  in  the  same  was  prior 
to  any  which  you  may  have  acquired." 

"  Because  of  partnership  with  Frederick  Doug- 
lass ?  "  I  scoffed. 

"Said  I  not  that  you  had  intelligence?  It's 
not  necessary  for  us  to  go  into  the  circumstances 
surrounding  the  manner  in  which  that  chart  came 
into  your  possession.  Enough  that  we  both  know 
them.  You  have  no  title  to  it." 


SEEN    FROM   A   WINDOW          203 

"  When  did  you  become  so  particular  as  to  titles, 
Monsieur  D'Urville  ?  "  I  asked.  "  So  far  as  I  could 
ever  infer  from  your  conduct,  possession  was  the 
only  title  you  recognized." 

He  smiled,  spread  the  tails  of  his  frock  coat 
carefully  over  his  knees,  while  he  rested  his  silk  hat 
upon  his  lap.  What  light  there  was  shone  full  upon 
his  face  and  gave  me  a  full  view  of  his  features. 
As  ever,  they  were  placid;  his  little  eyes  twinkled 
brightly,  his  round  forehead  running  into  the  bald- 
ness of  his  head  was  smooth  and  unfurrowed  by 
any  lines  of  anxiety ;  his  beard  black  and  shiny  — 
as  was  his  moustache  that  was  waxed  to  needle 
points  —  had  been  newly  and  closely  cropped  to  its 
point  on  the  chin. 

"  Come,  monsieur,  we  '11  put  aside  merely  pleasant 
conversation  and  talk  plain  business,"  said  he. 

"  Sefior,  you  have  me  at  a  disadvantage.  I  'm 
perhaps  intelligent  as  you  say,  but  this  rope  stops 
the  circulation  in  my  limbs  and  dulls  my  brain. 
To  talk  business  one  should  have  a  clear  mind; 
loosen  the  rope  and  you  will  perceive  an  astonishing 
brilliancy  in  my  ideas." 

The  complacent  smile  grew  upon  his  face. 

"  Ah,  but  no,  my  Charles.  I  fear  the  brilliancy 
would  extend  to  acts." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  ?  "  I  asked  shortly. 

"  The  map,  mon  ami." 

"  Get  it,  then." 

"  That  I  will  do  —  if  I  must.     But  let  us  see  if 


204  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

there  be  not  a  pleasanter  way.  As  you  know,  I  am 
about  to  bid  my  good  friends  at  Moore  House  fare- 
well the  day  after  to-morrow  or  the  day  following 
that.  Let  us  part  in  good  will,  you  and  I.  Give  me 
the  map  in  which  you  have  no  interest,  knowing  not 
even  the  name  of  the  fortress  or  in  what  country  it 
is  situated,  and  agree  to  say  nothing  of  it  or  of 
this  affair  or  of  a  certain  Monsieur  D'Urville,  and 
all  will  be  arranged  agreeably  between  us.  Good 
Pilon  will  row  you  upon  the  water  to  fish  a  day  or 
two  until  I  have  departed.  Thus  you  will  amuse 
yourself  and  this  matter  will  be  settled." 

"And  would  I  return  to  Lavouche?" 

He  spread  his  hands  wide  in  an  expressive 
gesture. 

"But  why  not,  Charles?" 

"  Yes,  why  not?  Pilon  has  a  knife,  and  so  have 
Descarte  and  Esper  knives.  Sefior,  it  would  be  very 
easy  to  speak  a  little  word  in  Pilon's  round  ear,  and 
then  —  plump!  Charles  would  dive  to  the  bottom 
like  a  fish.  Indeed,  my  dear  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  — 
D'Urville,  I  'm  laboring  under  the  delusion  that  the 
word  is  already  spoken." 

Drawing  forth  a  case,  he  removed  two  cigarettes, 
placed  one  to  my  lips  and  lighted  it,  and  then  served 
himself.  In  little  attentions  the  Sefior  was  all  that 
could  be  desired;  it  was  only  in  larger  ones  that 
his  zeal  might  prove  fatal. 

"  To  be  frank  with  you,  my  good  Charles,"  he 
said  a  little  sadly,  "  I  fear  the  word  has  been  spoken 


SEEN    FROM   A   WINDOW          205 

to  Pilon,  and  Pilon  is  a  ready  fellow.  For  some 
hundred  dollars  he  will  do  much;  indeed,  for  that 
sum  he  would  eat  his  soul  if  he  could  find  it." 

"  A  hundred  dollars,  cheap  enough." 

"Is  it  not?" 

"  Still  you  might  have  saved  the  money,"  I  said. 
"  You  are  very  skillful  as  a  murderer  yourself, 
Sefior.  I  recall  Forge,  for  instance." 

He  puffed  his  cigarette  critically. 

"  Not  particularly  skillful,  those  executions,  but 
necessary.  Besides,  to-day  it  is  different.  Behold, 
I  am  an  envoy,  a  man  of  position." 

Well,  there  was  something  to  be  said  for  that; 
an  envoy  and  particular  friend  of  a  president,  even 
of  President  Castro,  has,  I  suppose,  certain  pro- 
prieties to  observe.  It  would  not  look  well  to  en- 
gage in  murder ;  envoys  and  other  public  men  must 
depend  much  upon  favorable  impressions,  and  ex- 
ception might  be  taken  by  sensitive  persons  to  blood 
on  the  official  frock.  I  recognized  his  position  and 
the  obligations  it  carried;  I  went  farther  and  re- 
marked that  I  was  charmed  by  his  consideration. 

But  said  I,  "  I  can't  see  my  way  clear  to  deliver 
the  map." 

"  It 's  not  the  map  so  much,"  he  replied  frankly, 
"but  it  is  yourself,  my  friend,  that  concerns  me 
and  makes  this  step  imperative.  Perceive,  I  am  the 
intimate  of  Castro,  I  'm  the  friend  of  Monsieur 
Moore,  I  have  a  future  which  has  only  begun.  Do 
you  think  that  I  care  for  Venezuela?  Bah!  it  is  a 


2o6  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

dungheap  of  peons.  I  now  have  wealth;  brains  I 
have  always  had.  A  year  more  to  consummate  my 
plans,  and  then  I  shall  return  to  France,  and  there, 
no  longer  D'Urville,  no  longer  Del  Hervalle,  but " 

—  he  dramatically  tapped  his   breast  —  "  my  real 
self,  I  shall  become  famous.    What  will  money  not 
accomplish?    What  will  brains  not  contrive?     Ten 
years  —  five  —  and  you  will  behold  me  rule  France 

—  rule  Europe !  " 

He  stopped,  staring  past  me  into  an  unknown  and 
unimagined  world.  Not  cunning  schemes  were  the 
sole  food  of  his  mind;  like  other  human  beings,  he 
had  dreams  of  fame  and  greatness.  The  impene- 
trable mask  in  which  he  wrapped  himself  had  been 
dropped  for  a  moment  and  I  had  been  allowed  to 
see  his  audacious  soul.  He  would  mount  to  the 
top  of  a  great  people,  he  would  set  his  hand  on 
the  destinies  of  nations.  What  a  dream!  How 
petty  seemed  the  strivings  of  his  former  partner 
in  crime,  Douglass!  How  insignificant  were  Forge 
and  Lavouche  before  the  face  of  such  an  ambition ! 
And  I,  Charles  Wood  worth,  had  pitted  myself 
against  that  seething  brain  and  vast  ambition!  I 
had  thought  he  sought  a  map,  when  he  burned  for 
an  empire! 

He  flung  away  his  cigarette. 

"  I  fear  you  '11  see  nothing  of  reason,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  You  are  one  of  the  blocks,  one  of  the 
little  things,  I  must  kick  out  of  my  way;  you 
chanced  to  be  the  fool  who  stumbled  into  Forge  and 


SEEN    FROM    A   WINDOW          207 

saw  me  there.  Therefore  I  must  remove  you. 
You  '11  not  give  me  the  map  —  very  well.  I  will 
see  if  I  cannot  persuade  your  servant  to  hand  it 
to  me  before  I  leave  Lavouche.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  my  plans,  but  it  will  be  useful."  He  arose  and 
shook  out  his  coat-tails.  "  I  leave  you  to  your  re- 
flections. By  reflection  one  gains  wisdom  and  some- 
times consolation.  The  latter  I  especially  recom- 
mend to  you  now.  Until  this  evening  then,  my  dear 
Charles."  With  which  farewell  he  went  briskly  out. 

The  personality  of  the  man  remained  with  me, 
seemed  still  to  fill  the  spaces  of  the  room.  I  had 
sat  with  a  great  man,  though  a  ruthless.  Memory 
of  his  little  figure  was  forgotten;  there  remained 
but  the  boundless  scope  of  his  conception.  As  I 
looked  around  me,  however,  at  the  walls  and  roof 
and  floor,  common  sense  reasserted  itself.  Five 
hundred  years  earlier  he  could  have  triumphed ;  for 
his  was  the  mind  of  a  Mazarin,  of  a  Machiavelli. 
But  crimes  were  not  the  rungs  by  which  men  rose 
to  power  in  this  day  and  age  of  the  world. 

And  what  of  Charles  Wood  worth,  the  little  block 
he  was  about  to  kick  out  of  the  way?  That,  after 
all,  was  the  important  matter  to  me,  not  fame  and 
empires.  The  afternoon  was  waning  —  it  was  now 
near  six.  If  I  were  to  do  anything1  to  save  myself 
from  ending  my  career  in  the  manner  of  the  mack- 
erel which  Pilon  had  taken  pains  to  describe,  I  had 
best  be  at  it.  I  glanced  about  the  room;  my  eyes 
fell  on  one  of  the  stools.  With  it  I  could  stand 


208  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

full  above  the  board  that  barred  the  lower  part  of 
the  window;  but  to  what  purpose,  unless  to  save 
toes?  Suddenly  inspiration  fell  upon  me  like  a 
white  light;  should  mere  glass  stand  between  me 
and  a  shout  for  help?  Quickly  I  rose,  went  to  a 
stool  and  began  to  kick  it  along  the  floor.  It  tum- 
bled and  rolled,  but  I  knocked  it  forward  until  it 
stopped  under  the  window,  where  I  painfully  bent 
over  and  set  it  right,  after  which  I  mounted.  The 
window  was  composed  of  six  panes;  the  space  be- 
tween the  edge  of  the  board  and  the  top  of  the 
frame  was  some  twelve  inches.  Between  these  I 
inserted  my  head,  crown  against  one  of  the  panes, 
and  pushed.  Snap  went  the  glass,  whereupon  in 
rushed  a  gust  of  fresh  air  and  I  heard  the  smash 
on  the  pavement  below.  The  street  was  empty,  no 
one  was  in  sight.  Wait  until  a  man  shows  up,  said 
I  to  myself,  then  I  shall  use  the  voice  God  has 
given  me! 

Such  are  the  vain  imaginings  of  men.  I  did  not 
shout  when  the  first  man  appeared,  nor  when  the 
second  came  into  view,  nay,  not  even  when  marched 
forth  a  third.  For  of  all  the  hundred-odd  moving, 
breathing  human  beings  who  might  have  opened  a 
door  and  walked  out,  it  had  to  be  my  three  atrocious 
scoundrels,  Pilon  and  Descarte  and  Esper.  They 
stepped  from  the  inn  and  advanced  to  the  door  of 
their  own  dwelling.  Would  they  see  the  glass  which 
sprinkled  the  pavement?  Did  they  do  so,  would 
they  ascribe  to  it  any  connection  with  the  prisoner 


SEEN    FROM    A   WINDOW          209 

whom  they  had  locked  in  the  attic  above?  At  the 
door  they  paused. 

Pilon  sniffed  the  air. 

"  There  is  fog  coming  —  or  rain,"  he  said. 
"  That  is  good.  We  '11  not  have  so  far  to  go  out 
upon  the  water." 

"  We  will  tie  a  stone  to  his  feet,"  Descarte 
remarked. 

"  No,  that  is  not  well.  Let  the  current  carry 
him,"  Pilon  answered.  Esper  did  not  join  in  the 
talk.  Perhaps  he  was  thinking  of  the  watch  with 
the  flashing  jewels  embedded  in  its  case. 

Would  they  never  go  in?  With  my  head  half 
out  the  window  I  hung  over  them  in  a  spell  of 
terrible  fascination,  suffering  all  the  agony  of  a 
gambler  who  has  staked  his  last  handful  of  gold 
coins  in  a  final  desperate  coup  and  watches  the  little 
marble  spin  about  the  wheel  before  his  eyes.  God 
knows  it  was  my  final  coup!  If  the  fragments  of 
glass  were  discovered,  or  if  the  trio  ascended  and 
entered  my  attic  before  any  other  man  stood  in  the 
street,  I  would  never  find  the  chance  to  shout  an 
alarm.  They  smoked  and  loafed  and  dawdled ;  they 
discussed  the  disposal  of  my  person  as  indifferently 
as  if  I  had  been  a  lump  of  carrion. 

"  O,  la !  "  yawned  Pilon.  "  We  should  be  back 
by  midnight."  And  he  refilled  his  pipe. 

"  Unless  these  pigs  of  fishermen  go  to  bed  late  or 
we  have  to  row  far,"  Descarte  growled.  "  What 
about  some  brandy  ?  " 


210  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  We  '11  carry  a  flask  to  keep  us  warm." 

"  Good." 

In  the  intensity  of  excitement  that  prevailed  over 
me  I  had  now  got  my  head  wholly  out  of  the  hole 
in  the  window.  So  invisible  was  all  Lavouche, 
with  the  exception  of  my  three  jailers,  that  it  might 
have  been  a  village  of  the  dead  —  and  even  these 
three  were  discussing  death.  Yet  it  was  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world,  for  it  was  supper-time; 
smoke  drifted  from  chimneys  and  I  could  smell  fish 
and  onions  frying.  But  to  my  imagination,  in- 
flamed by  the  prospect  of  being  kept  captive,  by  the 
possible  discovery  and  estoppel  of  my  one  means 
of  communication,  and  the  eventual  dismissal  of  my 
person  into  the  sea,  there  seemed  in  the  fact  of  the 
street's  emptiness  a  conspiracy  of  evil  powers. 

The  men  continued  to  talk  and  idle  and  breathe 
the  evening.  Esper  joined  the  conversation. 

"  This  fellow  now,  we  should  keep  him  a  week 
and  squeeze  him  dry,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  long 
nose.  "  There 's  money  to  be  wrung  out  of  his 
clothes." 

Pilon  twirled  his  moustache.  "  Explain  the  joke, 
my  little  Esper." 

"  He  is  an  orange.  Yesterday  he  gave  up  three 
drops  of  juice  for  a  single  question  —  three  dollars. 
He  is  too  rich  to  dump  all  at  once  into  the  gutter." 

"  Rogue,  and  you  kept  them  ? "  Pilon  shouted. 
"Without  dividing?" 

"  Nay,  I  kept  not  the  dollars,  I  spent  them." 


211 

"  Worse,  thou  son  of  a  dog  of  a  cow !  Pilon 
will  remember." 

Esper  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Thou  wouldst 
have  a  long  memory,  then,  if  thou  remembered  all 
the  dollars  thou  thyself  hast  spent  and  not  divided." 

How  further  their  dispute  ran  I  do  not  know. 
A  figure  had  appeared  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
street,  a  man  carrying  a  hand-bag,  who  stopped  and 
looked  one  way  and  then  another  hesitating,  who 
seemed  doubtful.  Something  familiar  about  him 
made  me  lick  my  lips  with  expectation.  Let  him 
turn  up  the  street  and  I  was  saved,  whoever  he 
might  be. 

He  remained  between  two  minds,  and  while  he 
decided  I  ceased  to  breathe.  Then  suddenly  he  faced 
towards  the  village  and  came  on.  Now  let  my  three 
murderers  talk  and  idle  and  enjoy  the  air!  I  looked 
down  upon  them  grimly,  as  I  verily  believed  a 
Higher  Eye  than  mine  was  gazing  down ;  Pilon  was 
talking,  Descarte  was  listening,  but  Esper,  hands 
in  trousers  pockets,  was  casting  a  bored  and  random 
glance  over  the  pavement.  He  moved  a  step  and 
bent  over. 

"  Hola,  who  has  been  flinging  windows  about ! " 
he  exclaimed. 

A  horrible  fear  and  dreadful  rage  swelled  in  my 
heart.  Esper  —  Esper  to  whom  I  had  given  three 
dollars  —  was  to  rob  me  of  my  last  hope  of  rescue 
and  life.  The  unknown  man  was  too  far  away 
to  be  of  use,  but  he  was  coming  steadily.  I  recog- 


212  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

nized  him,  Billy  Harrington,  coming  like  a  cham- 
pion to  the  lists,  though  he  knew  it  not ! 

"  Glass  comes  from  a  window,  a  window  from  a 
house,"  said  Esper  sagely. 

He  examined  the  first  story,  likewise  did  Pilon 
and  Descarte;  he  examined  the  windows  of  the 
second,  their  eyes  were  lifted  with  his.  Death 
seemed  already  to  be  stretching  out  its  hand  and 
touching  me,  for  my  body  was  numbed  with  a  sort 
of  ante-rigor  mortis;  only  my  eyes  were  capable 
of  sensible  movement,  and  they  gazed  down  in  a 
horrible  ecstasy  of  expectation.  And  then  three 
other  pairs  of  eyes  rose  and  met  mine.  What  sort 
of  a  face  they  saw,  I  do  not  know;  with  hair  dis- 
heveled, skin  begrimed,  cheek  besmeared  with  blood 
from  a  glass  cut  on  my  temple,  I  can  only  imagine 
it  must  have  been  something  grotesque,  as  are  those 
of  gargoyles  on  cathedrals  of  a  French  town.  For 
the  three  men  stared  upward  in  blank  amazement. 

Then  Pilon  exploded  with  a  curse.  He  sprang  to 
the  door  and  vanished  within;  Descarte  hung  for  a 
moment  in  bewilderment,  but  followed;  I  knew 
they  were  hurling  themselves  up  the  stairs.  Esper 
alone  remained.  He  set  his  hands  on  his  hips,  head 
back,  and  surveyed  me  with  his  twitching  smile. 

"  Is  it  you  then,  Monsieur  Orange  ? "  he  said. 
"  Come,  this  is  droll." 

Droll  it  might  have  been  to  him,  to  me  it  was 
desperate.  I  burst  into  a  shout. 

"  Billy  —  Billy  Harrington !  " 


SEEN    FROM   A   WINDOW          213 

He  stopped  like  a  shot  at  hearing  his  name.  Fifty 
feet  away,  it  seemed  to  him  to  come  from  anywhere 
—  my  disembodied  voice,  as  he  afterwards  related, 
falling  from  anywhere.  Behind  me  the  door  was 
thrown  open,  the  room  filled  with  the  sound  of 
pounding  feet.  I  uttered  a  final  yell  to  Billy,  a  yell 
for  help,  a  cry  full  of  demand,  of  compelling  ur- 
gency, of  fierce  despair.  Then  hands  seized  me, 
my  head  was  wrenched  back  into  the  room,  my 
body  jerked  off  the  stool,  and  amid  curses  and 
savage  imprecations  I  was  hauled  to  the  opposite 
end  of  the  attic,  where  my  captors  thrust  me  down 
in  my  seat  against  the  wall.  Pilon,  breathing  hard 
from  his  race  up  two  flights  of  stairs,  towered  over 
me  like  a  bull. 

"  Imbecile,  you  would  rob  us  of  the  money  we 
strive  to  earn  ?  "  he  shouted  at  me  angrily. 

I  had  flung  dice  and  lost ;  I  had  done  my  best,  but 
Fate  was  too  strong  for  me.  Billy  too  had  done  the 
best  he  could  on  such  short  notice.  He  had  looked 
about  in  every  direction  save  the  right  one;  how 
could  he  be  expected  in  a  strange  village  to  turn  on 
the  instant  to  a  remote  and  disreputable  head  stick- 
ing out  of  a  third-story  attic  window?  It  was 
destiny  that  held  me  here,  not  Pilon.  My  bitter 
disappointment  ceased  and  fatalism  succeeded.  A 
sardonic  merriment  filled  my  heart. 

"  Can't  a  hungry  man  call  for  his  supper  ? "  I 
asked. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

ONE   WAY   TO   ENGAGE  A   VALET 

Thereafter  I  had  a  guard.  While  Pilon  and  Esper 
went  down  into  the  inn  for  their  supper,  Descarte 
remained,  a  man  who  by  nature  was  surly,  sullen, 
silent,  lowering,  and  begrimed.  He  sat  on  a  stool  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  smoking  a  short,  black  clay 
pipe  and  between  puffs  spat  on  the  floor.  Now  and 
again  he  would  turn  his  eyes  on  me  indifferently; 
and  the  only  emotion  he  displayed  was  towards  the 
last,  when  he  was  overtaken  by  impatience  to  have 
his  supper.  Growling  and  muttering  through  his 
beard,  he  heaped  imprecations  upon  Esper,  who  was 
to  relieve  him.  Half-past  seven  had  however  passed 
before  the  latter  came;  Descarte,  shoving  his  pipe 
into  a  jacket  pocket,  disappeared  without  a  word. 

Esper  was  one  of  those  alert  little  fellows  to  whom 
talk  was  as  essential  as  food  or  air;  so,  drawing 
forward  the  stool  which  his  mate  had  just  relin- 
quished, he  proceeded  to  engage  in  conversation. 

"  That  was  a  good  trick,  that,  eh  ?  "  he  remarked, 
nodding  backward  over  his  shoulder.  "  You  nearly 
sewed  up  the  sow's  ear  that  time,  monsieur,  and  your 
little  servant  Esper  found  it  necessary  to  invent  a 
tale  for  the  stranger  who  wished  to  know  who  was 


ONE  WAY  TO   ENGAGE  A  VALET    215 

calling  his  name  along  the  street.  A  very  imperti- 
nent gentleman,  that,  even  to  the  shaking  of  my 
shoulder.  But  the  noise  was  only  made  by  the 
drunken  dog  of  a  Pilon,  I  explained,  bellowing  in 
his  drunkenness.  Hcin,  the  stranger  departed  not 
well  satisfied  and  without  giving  a  pourboire  for 
the  information.  Not  a  jolly,  liberal  gentleman  like 
you,  my  master."  And  he  grinned  facetiously. 

"  My  liberality  is  about  to  be  cut  off,"  I  returned. 

"  That  is  true."    He  became  thoughtful. 

:<  You  might  have  squeezed  many  a  dollar  out  of 
me,  you  little  rogue." 

"  Ah,  yes."    He  grew  even  more  thoughtful. 

"  We  could  have  had  pleasant  days  together,  you 
and  I,  Esper  ?  " 

"  It  is  that  Pilon,  mon  Dieu,  who  would  throw 
away  the  orange  ? "  he  remarked  in  an  impatient 
tone. 

Of  the  three  scoundrels  who  were  my  keepers  it 
was  easy  to  perceive  that  Esper  had  the  brains. 
That  I  was  to  be  dumped  into  the  sea  without  being 
drained  of  more  money  vexed  him,  that  was  plain ; 
it  was  folly  thus  to  cast  a  pleasant  source  of  revenue 
away;  perhaps  for  a  week,  two  weeks,  I  might  ac- 
cording to  his  calculations  have  been  played  upon 
to  yield  up  some  dollars  each  day.  How  much  more 
sensible!  I  put  his  own  thoughts  to  him  and  in- 
quired if  it  were  not  so. 

"  But  yes,"  he  said  shortly. 

"  Well,  Pilon  is  probably  satisfied  with  the  gain 


216  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

of  my  watch/'  I  continued.  "  It  will  bring  him  con- 
siderable money,  furnish  him  with  more  than  one 
keg  of  brandy." 

The  flickering  smile  came  and  went  over  his  face, 
but  his  eyes  were  angry.  He  knew  and  I  knew  that 
he  should  share  in  none  of  the  proceeds,  though 
Pilon  might  condescend  to  dole  Descarte  a  recom- 
pense for  his  loyalty  and  assistance. 

"  Pilon  cries  loudly  to  divide,"  I  said.  "  Does 
he  ever  divide  when  he  finds  an  orange  ?  " 

"  He  would  divide  a  dead  herring,  no  more." 

"  That  watch  was  worth  a  good  bit  of  money." 
He  looked  up  with  interest.  "  How  much  do  you 
think,  Esper?" 

He  considered. 

"  Fifty  dollars  —  possibly  seventy-five." 

"  You  had  but  a  glance  before  Pilon  shut  his 
fingers  on  it.  Your  figure  is  low." 

"If  it  is  not  impolite  to  make  inquiry,  monsieur, 
what  was  the  cost  of  the  instrument  ?  " 

"  Five  hundred  dollars." 

The  furtive  smile  froze  on  his  lips.  For  a  minute 
he  sat  immovable,  one  corner  of  his  mouth  higher 
than  the  other,  his  nose  twisted  around;  his  face 
might  have  been  a  caricature.  Then  he  sprang  up. 

"  Nom  d'un  chien  de  la  cochon  —  oh,  that  damned 
Pilon,  may  he  burn  on  needles  in  hell !  "  And  he 
poured  out  a  stream  of  vehement,  biting  oaths  and 
curses,  scum  of  the  gutter,  filth  of  the  sewer,  terrible 
in  their  foulness  and  horrible  in  their  conception. 


ONE  WAY  TO   ENGAGE  A  VALET    217 

Had  my  hands  been  free,  I  should  have  clapped 
them  to  my  ears.  As  it  was,  I  was  compelled  to 
listen.  I  had  heard  cowboys  and  sea-captains  when 
profane  under  excitement,  but  what  they  could  say 
was  as  milk  to  vitriol  in  comparison  with  what  flowed 
and  spattered  from  Esper's  tongue.  Then  he  stopped 
abruptly  and  said  with  sudden  quietness :  "  Five  hun- 
dred —  it  is  a  fortune !  I  may  yet  possibly  have  to 
spit  Pilon  on  a  knife,  oh,  the  robber !  Monsieur,  five 
hundred  dollars  is  a  great  deal  to  give  for  only  a 
watch.  I  have  never  had  the  honor  of  possessing 
such  a  watch  to  tell  the  time  of  day  by.  It  must  be 
very  fine,  yes.  Have  you  many  such  watches, 
monsieur?  " 

His  interest  was  polite  but  nevertheless  sincere. 
I  had  to  confess  that  I  had  not  many,  in  fact,  only 
the  one  —  and  that  I  no  longer  possessed.  A  man 
does  not  usually  go  about  with  a  dozen  watches,  I 
pointed  out  to  him,  unless  he  be  a  jeweler  or  perhaps 
a  collector. 

"Ah,  that!  I  have  been  a  collector  of  watches," 
he  said  with  a  flash  of  wit,  "  but  of  such  watches  as 
this,  no  indeed,  but  only  of  poor  watches,  which  it 
was  necessary  to  present  to  le  oncle  when  I  was 
thirsty.  But  yours,  master,  is  a  grand  watch,  a 
famous  watch.  Will  you  have  need  of  a  quick  and 
faithful  valet  hereafter?" 

"  Not  unless  he  be  a  good  swimmer." 

Esper  received  the  jest  smiling.  "  I  had  forgotten 
that  affair." 


2i8  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  How  much  are  you  to  receive  as  your  share  of 
to-night's  work  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Peste!    Ten  dollars.    It  is  little." 

"  To  put  a  rope  around  your  neck,  very  little." 

Now,  if  ever,  here  was  my  chance  to  gain  an  ally. 
He  smoked  and  smiled  his  flickering  smile  in  high 
dissatisfaction  with  his  comrade's  cupidity;  the 
watch  he  had  lost,  the  pay  for  his  service  in  assist- 
ing to  murder  me  was  ridiculously  low;  altogether 
he  was  coming  out  of  the  affair  badly,  very  badly 
for  one  of  his  wit.  He  smiled  and  smoked  and 
frowned  and  was  displeased.  Because  he  was  think- 
ing deeply,  the  tip  of  his  nose  needed  much  scratch- 
ing. He  loved  money  and  he  would  get  but  an 
insignificant  handful  of  sous;  he  loved  watches  and 
he  had  been  robbed  of  a  magnificent  one;  it  was 
exasperating,  it  was  diabolical,  it  was  enough  to 
make  one  stick  a  knife  into  that  son  of  a  dog  of  a 
Pilon. 

"  Nom  de  Dieu,"  he  would  say  occasionally, 
" Nom  de  Dieu" 

At  last  a  brilliant  thought  struck  him.  He  swung 
about  to  face  me. 

"  Fool  that  I  am,  you  are  a  gentleman,  you  have 
money." 

"  I  have  some  money,"  I  admitted. 

"  Perhaps  you  could  buy  such  another  watch  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  unlikely." 

"  Possibly  you  are  wealthy." 

"  Possibly." 


ONE  WAY  TO  ENGAGE  A  VALET    219 

"  I  have  been  a  valet,  monsieur." 

"Eh?" 

"  Of  a  truth  —  to  a  gentleman  in  Bordeaux.  I 
could  present  you  with  excellent  references  were 
Monsieur  Cardinac  living,  but  unfortunately  he  is 
dead.  He  died  suddenly  without  the  thought  fulness 
to  provide  me  with  them." 

I  did  not  inquire  into  the  nature  of  Monsieur 
Cardinac's  sudden  demise,  nor  did  I  wish  a  valet, 
least  of  all  such  a  one  as  Esper.  But  the  idea 
had  taken  hold  upon  his  mind;  he  went  into  de- 
tails of  his  service  and  described  the  manner  in 
which  his  former  employer  was  shaved,  clothed,  and 
fed. 

"  Which  would  you  prefer,"  I  asked,  "  to  be  a 
yalet  or  to  have  five  hundred  dollars  cash  ?  " 

"  Both,"  he  answered  without  hesitation. 

"  There  are  good  pickings,  I  suppose,  in  service  ?  " 

"Eh?    Sometimes." 

"  I  will  give  you  five  hundred  dollars  to  free  me." 

His  eyes  flashed,  then  narrowed.  "  It  is  a  risk 
—  five  hundred  is  little." 

"  It  is  much." 

"  Something  —  but  not  equal  to  the  position  of 
valet." 

"  I  don't  want  you  for  a  servant." 

Surprise  grew  on  his  dirty  face.  "  But  yes.  Did 
I  not  please  you  yesterday?  " 

I  laughed.  Villainous  as  I  knew  him  to  be,  con- 
scienceless as  he  was,  his  impudence  was  captivating. 


220  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

"  You  were  well  enough,"  I  answered.  "  What 
you  want  to  be  my  valet  for,  I  can't  imagine." 

"  Monsieur,  observe.  I  am  weary  of  Pilon  and 
Descarte,  who  are  sons  of  pigs  without  wit.  You 
are  a  good  master.  You  will  buy  a  new  watch,  you 
are  wealthy.  We  shall  live  comfortably  together 
away  from  the  smell  of  fish." 

"  I  '11  give  you  five  hundred  dollars  to  free  me, 
no  more." 

"  Five  hundred  and  the  valetship,  monsieur." 

"  No." 

"  Pardon,  but  yes." 

On  his  twitching,  smiling  face  I  saw  a  look  of 
determination.  A  great  idea  had  come  to  him.  As 
D'Urville  dreamed  of  empires,  so  Esper  now  dreamed 
of  a  service  where  there  would  be  many  fine  oppor- 
tunities for  sly  pilfering.  Esper  my  valet!  It  was 
absurd,  ridiculous,  and  yet  to  him  it  was  anything 
but  absurd  and  ridiculous;  he  had  me  at  a  disad- 
vantage and  could  press  his  demand,  and  he  knew 
—  shrewd,  rascally  mind !  —  that  he  dealt  with  a 
man  of  honor.  My  word  once  passed,  it  would  not 
be  broken.  Then  I  grew  grave.  It  was  not  a  laugh- 
ing matter.  My  life  was  in  the  fellow's  hands;  he 
could  dictate,  and  life,  even  with  such  a  valet,  were 
better  than  death  in  the  water. 

"  I  will  make  it  a  thousand,"  I  offered. 

For  an  instant  he  hesitated.  But  imagination  had 
poured  its  magic  fluid  into  his  mind;  he  beheld 
splendid  visions  of  purloined  stick  pins,  coins,  cigars, 


ONE  WAY  TO  ENGAGE  A  VALET    221 

wines,  even  jewels;  he  had  caught  a  vision  of  an 
Aladdin's  cave. 

"  No,  the  five  hundred  and  the  other." 

"  You  little  shrimp,  you  wry- faced  scoundrel !  " 
I  exclaimed. 

"  Ha,  that  is  like  Monsieur  Cardinac  now,"  he 
answered  with  admiration.  "  Monsieur  Cardinac 
was  a  witty  gentleman  —  you  too  will  be  a  pleasant 
master  to  serve." 

Such  imperturbability  was  beyond  further  attack. 
As  for  him  he  had  gone  off  on  another  line  of 
thought. 

"  That  Pilon,  what  a  joke  on  Pilon  it  will  be ! 
He  will  twirl  his  moustache  and  bawl  oaths.  Let 
him.  You  agree,  monsieur? "  A  hand  without 
pushed  the  door.  "  You  agree  ?  "  he  repeated  again, 
anxiously. 

Pilon  and  Descarte  entered,  and  conversation  was 
cut  off.  Presently  Senor  Del  Hervalle  too  put  in 
an  appearance.  He  bade  me  good  evening,  then 
turned  to  the  three  men  and  plunged  into  a  dis- 
cussion of  the  night's  plan,  which  though  carried 
on  without  mention  of  my  name  was  sufficiently 
clear  to  convey  understanding  to  my  mind.  A  fog 
had,  it  appeared,  rolled  up  over  sea  and  island  as 
had  been  predicted  by  Pilon,  enveloping  the  shore, 
which  was  not  thick  enough  however  to  warrant  the 
risk  of  attempting  to  bear  me  captive  along  the 
street.  Unfortunately  for  their  enterprise  the  house 
which  we  occupied  had  no  rear  door,  the  one  which 


222  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

had  originally  formed  an  entrance  there  having  been 
sealed  by  a  previous  householder.  Pilon  grumbled; 
we  should  have  to  wait  another  hour  at  least,  for 
fishermen  were  still  moving  here  and  there  at  door- 
ways. The  envoy  interrupted  him.  In  the  mean 
time  Pilon,  he  stated,  should  make  ready  a  boat; 
Senor  Del  Hervalle  would  go  himself  with  him  and 
afterwards  drink  a  glass  of  wine  by  the  window 
in  the  inn,  where  he  could  observe  our  passing  down 
to  the  sea;  after  which  he  would  follow  to  observe 
that  the  boat  put  off  successfully.  And  Esper  looked 
over  his  shoulder  at  me,  smiling  a  question  with  his 
crooked  smile. 

It  was  no  longer  a  mooted  point  in  my  mind  of 
accepting  Esper  as  my  valet-de-chambre ;  to  that 
now  I  would  gladly  consent  to  gain  my-  freedom, 
consent  to  that  and  far  more.  Our  talk  however 
and  whatever  agreements  we  might  enter  into  on 
the  subject  of  master  and  servant  would  now  be 
waste  of  breath.  There  was  but  an  hour  left  for 
me  to  live,  during  which  I  would  be  held  a  prisoner 
and  guarded  with  vigilance.  Against  Pilon  and 
Descarte,  what  could  Esper  do,  even  if  he  were  so 
minded,  to  accomplish  my  release?  Pilon  had  my 
revolver,  Descarte  was  a  powerful  creature  who 
would  not  be  stopped  from  earning  his  wage.  Only 
on  the  street  or  at  the  boat  was  it  possible  that  my 
escape  could  be  effected;  at  that  it  would  require 
the  killing  of  Pilon  and  Descarte  and  mayhap  Senor 
Del  Hervalle,  indeed,  a  piling  up  of  slaughters  of 


ONE  WAY  TO  ENGAGE  A  VALET    223 

which  little  Esper,  or  any  other  rascal,  might  well 
be  proud.  But  I  knew  that  so  vast  an  enterprise  was 
beyond  him. 

Del  Hervalle  and  his  three  rascals  talked  on.  De- 
pression settled  upon  my  mind.  Outside  was  fog, 
inside  the  walls  despair.  Two  candles  which  Pilon 
had  brought  awhile  before  and  stuck  by  their  own 
grease  on  a  stool  cast  an  imperfect  light  throughout 
the  attic.  The  room  was  too  big  for  the  feeble 
beams ;  in  the  corners,  in  the  angles  of  the  chimney, 
in  the  high  peak  of  the  roof,  the  shadows  lurked  and 
lay  or  jerked  and  fluttered  whenever  the  briny  night 
air  puffed  through  the  hole  in  the  window  and 
started  the  candle-flames  dancing.  It  was  not  a 
pleasant  thing  to  think  that  I  might  have  been  loung- 
ing in  a  big  chair  before  the  fireplace  in  Stag  Lodge. 
A  fierce  resentment  blazed  up  in  my  heart  against 
the  fate  that  roped  me  to  a  seat  in  this  barren  prison. 
Until  I  had  gone  to  Forge  two  years  before,  where 
first  I  met  the  little  fat  Frenchman,  I  had  thought 
the  world  a  dull  place.  Since  then  it  had  proven 
exciting  enough.  My  acquaintance  with  the  man, 
and  the  world  too  for  that  matter,  would  end  to- 
night and  whether  or  not  to-morrow  would  continue 
to  be  dull  or  be  exciting  I  would  neither  know  nor 
care.  I  had  always  been  rather  fond  of  the  sea, 
but  by  daylight;  and  I  had  always  hoped  to  have 
my  grave  in  good  solid  ground.  To  imagine  oneself 
washing  around  in  seaweed,  with  curious  fishes  star- 
ing at  one  and  crabs  scuttling  among  one's  ribs 


224  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

and  lobsters  playfully  tapping  one's  grinning  teeth 
that  cannot  eat  them  —  ugh !  Then,  too,  how  would 
Pilon  proceed  to  his  task  of  preparing  me  for  burial  ? 
I  wondered  if  he  would  stand  over  me  as  I  lay 
bound  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  if  before  he 
slit  my  throat,  twirling  his  moustache  he  would  de- 
liver himself  of  a  number  of  boastful  remarks,  which 
I  might  take  if  I  wished  as  Life's  Exordium;  or 
would  he,  being  in  a  hurry  to  get  back  to  bed  and 
sleep,  finish  the  matter  with  dispatch?  By  the  time 
I  had  fed  on  these  reflections  I  was  in  a  desperate 
state  of  resolve.  I  would  put  up  a  final  fight.  The 
rope  must  need  be  unwound  in  order  to  permit  me 
to  walk,  for  the  villains  could  not  conveniently  carry, 
kill,  and  bury  me  attached  to  a  chair.  The  moment 
of  loosing  my  bonds  should  be  the  favorable  time. 
I  would  fight  as  never  a  man  fought  before;  and 
if  they  succeeded  in  taking  me  to  the  boat  it  would 
be  after  first  picking  me  a  dead  man  from  the  boards 
of  the  floor. 

Sefior  Del  Hervalle  advanced  to  the  place  where 
I  sat. 

"  It 's  extremely  sad  that  so  promising  a  young 
man  must  die  and  you  will  possibly  find  it  incon- 
venient, but,  alas,  such  is  the  world !  "  He  lifted  his 
eyebrows  philosophically.  "  I  have  just  learned  that 
Pilon  failed  to  provide  you  with  either  dinner  or 
supper;  Pilon  is  a  ruffian,  he  does  not  understand 
the  little  courtesies  which  make  existence  endurable 
and  which  are  customary  among  gentlemen.  Accept 


ONE  WAY  TO   ENGAGE  A  VALET    225 

my  profound  regrets,  monsieur,  it  shall  never  occur 
again,  I  assure  you."  And  his  eyes  twinkled. 

"  It 's  not  yet  too  late  for  me  to  eat,"  said  I. 

"  Perhaps,  no.  But  the  inn-woman  has  washed 
her  pans  and  kettles;  she  will  not  cook  again  until 
morning.  Moreover,  we  are  advised  by  physicians 
that  it  is  injudicious  to  enter  water  immediately 
after  a  meal.  Now,  my  dear  Monsieur  Charles,  if 
there  is  anything  you  wish  to  say,  I  am  at  your 
service.  At  the  boat  we  shall  be  busy;  besides, 
one  finds  it  difficult  to  listen  attentively  while  shiver- 
ing with  chill  of  the  fog." 

I  considered  for  a  moment. 

"  You  're  very  confident,"  said  I  gravely,  "  but 
when  you  murder  me  you  're  but  adding  another 
strand  to  the  rope  that  will  hang  you.  You  think 
that  you  '11  go  to  France  and  become  a  great  man 
—  bah !  You  '11  decorate  a  gallows-beam.  You  '11 
not  even  get  out  of  America." 

He  removed  his  long  amber  cigarette-holder, 
flicked  an  ash,  and  pursed  his  lips. 

"  I  am  an  envoy.  Your  government  will  conform 
to  the  usages  of  international  custom  and  courtesy. 
You  speak  unadvisedly." 

"  I  speak  the  truth,"  I  said.  "  There  are  five  men 
who  know  that  Senor  Del  Hervalle  was  the  mechanic 
D'Urville,  the  scoundrel  and  murderer  D'Urville  of 
Forge.  Five  men,  I  say,  any  one  of  whom  can  and 
will  rip  off  your  mask  and  hang  you." 

That  my  scornful  statement  impressed  him  was 


226  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

evident.  For  a  time  he  said  nothing,  while  I  could 
imagine  his  brain  clicking  busily  away  like  a  delicate 
machine,  sorting  facts,  questions,  possibilities. 

"  Monsieur  Maitland  —  Fenton  —  "  he  con- 
sidered. 

"  And  they're  not  all.  There  's  a  well-known  war 
correspondent  who  has  heard  all  about  you  and  will 
look  you  up  —  good  reading  for  the  public  your 
career  will  make,  Senor.  After  him  there 's  an 
American  army  officer  who  knows  everything  that 
I  know  and,  further,  he  is  aware  that  you  are  here 
on  the  island  of  Lavouche.  What  will  be  his  in- 
ference when  I  disappear?  He  has  friends,  high 
friends  in  the  American  government.  Explanations 
will  be  required.  There  is  a  fifth  wealthy  gentleman 
of  New  York,  who  has  a  finger  on  the  strings  of 
half  a  dozen  of  your  petty  republics.  You  do  not 
know  him,  but  he  knows  you.  He  has  already, 
without  your  learning  the  fact  of  course,  turned  his 
eye  in  your  direction,  because  it  chanced  that  you 
had  a  man  shot  against  a  wall  whom  he  had  em- 
ployed on  a  certain  matter.  When  he  turns  his 
attention  upon  an  individual,  it  is  not  without  a 
purpose  in  mind;  and  when  I  informed  him  of  the 
events  of  Forge  and  of  your  identity  he  was  im- 
mensely pleased." 

"Ah!"  said  he. 

My  remarks  were  certainly  interesting  him. 

"  And  to  go  back  to  Messrs.  Fenton  and  Mait- 
land, they  have  been  placed  in  possession  of  the 


ONE  WAY  TO   ENGAGE  A  VALET    227 

facts  —  that  you  are  Sefior  Del  Hervalle,  that  you 
are  here,  and,  last  and  most  important,  that  you 
have  already  threatened  my  life.  You  are  aware 
that  they  have  millions  and,  now  that  they  have 
track  of  you  again,  they  will  spend  them  if  neces- 
sary to  bring  you  to  justice.  An  envoy  of  Venezuela ! 
How  much  do  the  nations  of  the  world  respect  that 
cut-throat  Castro!  They  will  reach  a  hand  forth 
and  drag  you  by  the  hair  from  his  little  kingdom. 
A  great  man  of  Europe!  You  will  be  a  little  man 
suspended  from  a  gibbet." 

I  had  told  him  some  news,  that  was  a  satisfaction 
at  any  rate,  news  which  would  engage  his  mind  for 
some  time  to  come.  The  fingers  with  which  he  held 
his  cigarette-holder  were  shaking. 

"  These  are  matters  I  shall  meditate,"  said  he 
finally. 

"  You  '11  have  much  need  to." 

For  a  while  longer  he  stood,  then  made  a  gesture 
as  if  to  dismiss  the  unpleasant  topic  from  his  mind. 

"  We  are  far  away  from  our  immediate  business," 
he  addressed  me.  And  falling  again  into  his  suave 
irony,  "  Your  appearance  is  not  prepossessing,  Mon- 
sieur Charles,  to  enact  the  chief  role  which  is  as- 
signed to  you." 

"  It  matters  little  after  one  is  dead  whether  he 
dies  clean  or  dirty,  in  rags  or  broadcloth." 

His  three  hirelings,  who  all  the  while  had  stood 
silent,  listening  to  what  they  could  but  half  under- 
stand, were  in  their  own  depth  again;  and  it  was 


228  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

at  this  point  that  Esper,  pert  and  impudent,  ad- 
vanced a  pace. 

"  Possibly  monsieur,  since  his  apparel  is  awry, 
would  wish  to  employ  a  valet  ?  "  he  inquired. 

Bursting  into  a  roar  of  laughter,  Pilon  smote  the 
speaker  on  the  back  with  his  palm.  It  was  a  fine 
jest!  Descarte  too  grinned  his  savage  grin;  even 
Sefior  Del  Hervalle  condescended  to  beam.  Esper, 
on  his  part,  was  smiling  his  strange,  furtive,  flicker- 
ing smile;  the  candle  rays  fell  on  his  face  and 
brought  out  in  strong  relief  of  light  and  shadow 
the  man's  lean  cheeks,  long  bent  nose,  crooked  twitch- 
ing mouth.  But  he  did  something  more  than  smile 
—  he  made  of  me  a  silent,  eager,  final  demand. 

I  answered  him: 

"  My  need  for  a  valet  is  at  present  exceeding 
great.  I  employ  you,  Esper." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

A   STRUGGLE  ON   THE   SANDS 

We  had  struck  our  bargain,  Esper  and  I.  A  ray 
of  hope  flashed  into  my  breast,  but  only  a  faint  and 
struggling  ray.  How  he  should  outwit  these  others 
—  for  it  must  be  by  wit  if  at  all  —  I  had  not  the 
faintest  conception.  Nor  did  he,  I  think,  at  the 
time  have  any  plan ;  he  would  trust  to  the  mind  God 
had  given  him  (so  he  would  have  said)  and  con- 
trive an  occasion  out  of  opportunity.  Could  he  do 
it?  The  whole  matter  rested  in  his  grimy  little 
hands. 

Pilon  departed  to  make  ready  the  boat,  and  with 
him  went  Senor  Del  Hervalle.  Descarte  drew  out 
his  pipe  and  smoked.  Esper  continued  to  engage 
himself  with  me  in  pleasant  conversation. 

"  How  is  it,  monsieur,  this  thing  of  an  ocean  to 
sleep  in  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  '11  be  better  able  to  tell  you  to-morrow,"  I 
answered. 

"  Truly,  yes.  There  will  be  big  fish  and  whales 
to  disturb  you,  however,  just  as  rats  come  and  bite 
at  Descarte  when  he  is  drunk." 

The  man  named  turned  a  scowling  countenance 
upon  his  frivolous  companion. 


230  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

"  Sacre,  I  will  beat  you  for  that,"  he  growled. 

"  Oh,  mon  camarade,  no.  It  is  only  a  little  joke, 
and  the  rats  come  only  when  you  are  very  drunk. 
I  myself  have  helped  to  drive  them  out  of  your 
head.  But  what  will  you !  One  cannot  enjoy  drunk- 
enness and  not  pay  the  penny." 

"  That  is  true,"  Descarte  agreed. 

"  So  therefore  the  rats  must  run." 

"  I  am  very  dry  now,"  Descarte  said. 

Esper  rose  from  the  stool  on  which  he  sat  and 
humming  a  chanson  strolled  to  the  window,  where 
he  put  his  head  through  the  broken  pane  for  a  while. 
When  he  rejoined  us,  his  cheeks  were  damp  with 
the  fine  moisture  of  the  fog.  He  resumed  con- 
versation. 

"  What  think  you,  Descarte,  must  I  as  valet  fol- 
low my  master  into  the  sea  ?  " 

Descarte  showed  his  yellow  teeth  in  a  hideous 
grin. 

"  I  will  help  you  there  if  you  wish." 

"  Salt  would  make  me  thirsty.  There  would  be 
much  water  but  no  wine.  Water  is  for  imbeciles." 

"  That  is  true,"  Descarte  admitted,  and  looked 
around.  "  Has  the  dog  of  a  Pilon  left  us  nothing?  " 

"  Nothing." 

Again  Esper  went  to  the  window  and  put  his 
head  forth.  When  he  returned,  he  shot  a  rapid 
glance  at  me,  rolled  himself  a  cigarette  which  he 
lighted  at  a  candle,  then  rubbed  his  nose  specu- 
latively. 


A   STRUGGLE   ON    THE    SANDS    231 

"  How  deep  is  the  sea,  monsieur  ?  " 

"  Some  miles." 

"  That  is  very  far,  a  long  jump  up  to  come  back 
for  some  of  madame's  brandy." 

"  Perhaps  you  could  find  some  down  yonder  in 
the  bottom  of  the  ocean.  No  doubt  there  are  dozens 
of  barrels  rolling  around  that  have  spilled  out  of 
wrecked  ships,"  I  suggested. 

"  Ah,  barrels  would  be  necessary,  for  I  should 
be  very  dry  indeed  with  so  much  salt  about." 

"  Damn  Pilon,  to  leave  us  no  brandy,"  said 
Descarte. 

"  Pilon  is  a  cistern,  he  drinks  it  all,  my  good 
comrade.  But,  monsieur,  I  cannot  follow  you,  I 
fear.  The  salt  would  spoil  the  barrels  when  they 
were  opened.  Parbleu,  the  thought  of  so  much 
salt  makes  my  throat  stick  together.  I  am  very 
dry." 

"  And  I  —  I  am  dry,"  Descarte  said. 

"  We  have  nothing  to  drink." 

"  Nom  de  nom,  nothing." 

Esper  stood  with  a  forefinger  to  his  nose,  his 
smile  coming  and  going.  He  looked  at  Descarte, 
Descarte  scowled  at  the  floor. 

"  Tiens!  "  Esper  suddenly  exclaimed. 

Descarte  looked  up.     "  What?  " 

"  Brandy,  a  bottle." 

"Where?" 

"  I  perceived  Pilon  to  hide  so  much "  —  he 
indicated  a  bottle  half  full  — "  in  his  long  coat, 


232  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

the  oil-skin  coat  in  the  room  under  this.  I  will 
fetch  it." 

Descarte  sprang  up,  seized  him  by  the  shoulder, 
and  spun  him  aside. 

"  Thief,  would  you  drink  it  all !  I,  Descarte,  will 
fetch  it."  And  growling  in  his  beard,  he  stamped 
out  of  the  attic. 

For  an  instant  Esper  harked  after  him.  The  door 
remained  open  and  we  could  hear  the  man's  feet 
clumping  down  the  flight  of  steps  to  the  next  floor 
beneath.  Breathlessly  I  waited.  If  Esper  was  to 
do  the  business,  this  was  his  chosen  time.  He  came 
quickly  to  me. 

"  Listen,  monsieur,"  he  said.  "  I  cut  the  rope, 
but  you  must  remain  without  moving.  Descarte 
will  not  observe.  He  will  return  without  the  brandy, 
for  there  is  none.  Then  I  shall  go  down  and  look. 
When  I  too  come  back,  I  will  cry,  *  The  prisoner ! 
oh,  thou  traitor,  Descarte!  Pilon  will  wring  thy 
neck  for  cutting  that  rope/  That  will  be  the  signal, 
master,  for  you  to  spring  up.  We  will  follow  to 
catch  you,  but  I  will  stumble  in  Descarte's  way. 
Find  then  a  place  where  your  legs  will  carry  you." 

With  his  knife  he  cut  my  bonds  even  as  he  spoke, 
leaving  them  to  retain  the  appearance  of  being  yet 
unsevered.  The  release  of  pressure  upon  my  numbed 
and  aching  limbs  sent  the  blood  smarting  through 
my  arteries ;  pins  and  needles  filled  each  finger  and 
toe.  But,  oh,  the  joy  of  that  pain!  Working  my 
muscles  into  their  normal  condition,  but  gently  so 


A    STRUGGLE    ON    THE    SANDS    233 

as  not  to  disturb  the  segments  of  rope,  I  gradually 
restored  circulation.  Descarte  was  making  a  thor- 
ough search. 

"  To  resume  our  discussion,  monsieur,"  Esper 
said,  lighting  a  fresh  cigarette  and  taking  his  seat, 
"  all  the  salt  in  the  sea,  where  does  it  come  from?  " 

At  this  instant  I  loved  the  rogue,  loved  his 
twisted  nose  and  odd  smile.  For  was  I  not  re- 
leased, was  I  not  again  a  free  man  ?  Del  Hervalle's 
plot  had  fallen  apart  with  the  rope.  Nothing  in 
the  world  should  stop  me  from  going  out  of  this 
stone  house  where  I  had  spent  long  fearful  hours. 
Eagerness  bade  me  leap  up,  fling  myself  out  into 
the  air,  and  shout  Del  Hervalle's  villainy  to  the 
world;  prudence  whispered  that  I  might  meet 
Descarte  on  the  stair  —  and  he  had  on  his  person 
a  wicked  knife.  Moreover  obligation  to  the  little 
fellow  who  had  played  his  part  so  well  held  me  yet 
bound  by  honor  to  give  him  the  chance  he  demanded 
to  reflect  the  guilt  of  my  escape  upon  Descarte. 
I  might  have  fled  then  and  there.  Esper  was  only  a 
rascal  —  but  had  I  not  given  my  word  ? 

"  Where  does  all  the  salt  come  from  ?  Out  of  the 
earth,"  I  answered. 

"  Then  there  is  more  to  come  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  It  will  fill  up  the  ocean,  mon  Dieu,  until  there 
is  no  water,  only  salt." 

"Possibly." 

He  shook  his  head.     "  Master,  I  shall  not  follow 


234  THE   ISLE    OF   STRIFE 

you  into  the  sea  to  be  dried  up  hard  in  salt  like  a 
cod-fish  in  a  barrel.  No,  monsieur,  that  would  be 
to  ask  too  much,  even  of  a  valet." 

On  the  stone  steps  Descarte's  boots  sounded 
clumping  up  to  join  us.  He  wore  a  face  of  wrath 
when  he  entered. 

"  Dog,  son  of  a  dog,  thou  drank  it !  "  he  snarled. 

Esper  raised  his  eyebrows  in  astonishment. 

"  I  ?    No,  no,  my  comrade." 

"  There  is  no  bottle  there  except  an  empty  one." 

"  Then  Pilon  has  taken  it." 

"  Thou  liest." 

"  By  the  Little  Mother,  no.  Stay  you,  I  will 
look." 

Descarte  scowled.  "If  you  find  it  and  bring  it  not 
here,  I  shall  in  truth  send  you  diving  after  this 
other  dog."  And  he  turned  his  scowl  upon  me. 

"  Ha,  jest  not,"  said  Esper.  "  Jest  not  so  seri- 
ously, Descarte." 

He  disappeared  in  his  turn,  descending  the  stair 
on  the  mock  search.  The  minute  of  deliverance  was 
near.  Descarte  scowled  and  listened  and  wrinkled 
his  brow;  far  were  his  thoughts  from  me  or  my 
escape,  all  on  a  bottle.  He  was  in  no  mood  for 
jests,  yet  the  one  Esper  was  about  to  play  was  an 
excellent  one.  I  moved  my  feet  a  little  until  I  had 
them  placed  so  as  to  enable  me  to  make  a  quick 
forward  spring.  And  then  —  and  then,  what  was 
that  I  heard?  Del  Hervalle's  voice? 

They  were  ascending  the  stair  together.     Evi- 


A    STRUGGLE   ON    THE    SANDS    235 

dently  the  Senor  had  not  been  satisfied  to  sit  at 
madame's  inn-window,  or  perhaps  the  fog  was  too 
thick  to  permit  him  to  look  without.  He  stepped 
into  the  room  wiping  moisture  from  his  face  with 
a  linen  handkerchief.  Pilon  waited  at  the  boat,  he 
was  informing  Esper,  who  listened  with  head  on 
one  side;  what  would  the  little  fellow  do?  Would 
he  give  the  signal  ?  Well,  none  would  be  needed. 

The  fingers  of  my  right  hand  slipped  down  and 
closed  round  a  stool  leg.  I  straightened  my  body  a 
trifle  and  several  of  the  severed  coils  slipped  away 
until  the  ends  showed.  But  none  of  the  three  men 
for  the  moment  perceived  what  had  occurred,  for 
Senor  Del  Hervalle  still  talked  busily  with  the  pair. 
He  had  now  arrived  in  the  center  of  the  room  just 
behind  Descarte,  who  continued  smoking  on  his 
stool,  from  which  he  had  not  moved  since  his  re- 
turn; Esper  however  turned  his  head  on  one  side 
so  that  he  could  hold  me  in  range  of  vision.  Up 
and  down  his  glance  flashed,  noting  the  betraying 
fragments  of  rope. 

"  As  valet  to  Monsieur  Charles,  I  cannot  convince 
myself  that  it  is  necessary  to  follow  him  into  the 
sea,"  he  said  gayly. 

"  Oh,  mon  bon  enfant,"  smiled  Del  Hervalle. 

Esper  shot  another  glance  at  me,  ran  his  tongue 
over  his  lips.  The  time  for  action  had  at  last  come. 
I  gripped  the  chair-leg  tighter  and  leaned  forward. 

"  The  service  of  a  valet  —  "  he  stated,  then  dra- 
matically clutching  the  envoy's  arm,  exclaimed, 


236  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  Look,   Sefior,  look !     The  prisoner !     Thou  dog, 
Descarte,    to    cut    him    loose  —  traitor,     stinking 

Pig- 

What  more  he  cried  I  never  heard.  Up  I  sprang 
and  swinging  the  stool  in  a  great  circle  flung  it  at 
Descarte's  head.  Then  I  jumped  for  the  door. 
The  man  at  whom  I  had  aimed  the  heavy  missile 
ducked  his  head  and  body,  falling  over  on  one  knee 
against  the  seat  whereon  stood  the  two  candles, 
knocking  them  in  a  sputter  upon  the  floor,  while  the 
stool  passed  on,  striking  Del  Hervalle  full  in  the 
breast  and  hurling  him  prostrate.  That  much  I  saw 
before  the  light  suddenly  diminished  to  the  little 
halo  of  radiance  which  lay  round  the  flames  burn- 
ing on  the  boards.  Out  I  went,  followed  by  a  cry 
from  Del  Hervalle  for  the  men  to  pursue  me. 

I  took  the  first  stair  by  great  leaps.  A  lighted 
lantern  hung  from  a  hook  on  the  landing  beneath, 
spreading  from  its  dingy  panes  a  few  feeble  rays. 
As  I  came  under  it,  I  cast  a  swift  glance  up  the  steps 
behind  me;  Descarte  was  already  out  of  the  room, 
jumping  downward  like  a  mad  bull  and  carrying  a 
knife  in  his  hand.  Esper  was  close  at  his  heels. 
Two  steps  and  I  was  at  the  top  of  the  lower  stair, 
down  which  I  plunged.  In  the  room  below  was 
darkness.  My  recollection  of  the  spot  where  opened 
the  door  and  where  hung  its  latch  was  vague;  I 
had  to  halt  and  fumble  for  the  latter.  Almost 
Descarte  reached  me  as  I  finally  pulled  it  open  and 
burst  out  of  the  dreadful  house. 


A    STRUGGLE   ON    THE    SANDS     237 

The  fog  was  not  so  thick  but  what  the  moon,  now 
risen  a  little  way  above  the  wood  and  cliff  of  rock, 
diffused  the  night  with  a  pale  and  luminous  glow. 
It  was  as  if  the  street  were  filled  with  a  mysterious 
golden  haze.  The  walls  of  the  opposite  houses 
loomed  dark;  objects  could  be  seen  only  as  vague 
shapes;  and  into  this  strange  vapor-filled  canyon 
of  the  street  down  which  the  moon  shone  I  and 
my  two  pursuers  fled.  That  there  was  fog  I  had 
forgotten;  it  enveloped  me  with  a  sudden  surprise. 
Emotions  however  were  out  of  place  now,  it  was  a 
time  for  legs.  Behind  me  not  ten  feet  I  heard  the 
footfalls  of  Descarte  and  Esper.  From  Esper  I  had 
nothing  to  fear,  but  from  the  scoundrel  who  ran  at 
his  side  I  had  everything  to  dread,  for  did  he  once 
get  in  reach  of  me  he  would  not  hesitate  to  plunge 
his  knife  into  my  back.  Down  the  empty  foggy 
street  we  therefore  clattered  and  out  upon  the  sands. 
By  the  sound  of  their  steps  when  our  feet  last  echoed 
on  the  rock  pavement  I  knew  I  had  gained  ground 
on  them.  Without  question  I  could  outrun  my  pur- 
suers if  I  had  the  endurance,  but  wearied  by  the 
hours  in  which  I  had  been  held  captive,  stiff  from 
long  remaining  in  a  rigid  position  and  weak  from 
hunger,  I  knew  that  if  I  did  not  soon  shake  off 
that  human  wolf  behind  me,  Descarte,  it  would  come 
to  a  hand-to-hand  struggle. 

Then  all  at  once  I  found  myself  stumbling  among 
the  fishing  boats  which  had  been  drawn  up  that  even- 
ing close  together  on  the  sand.  Their  blotted  shapes 


238  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

lay  like  sleeping  animals  of  the  sea;  one  checked 
my  way  when  I  darted  into  a  space  between  two 
others,  and  though  there  was  a  narrow  space  through 
which  I  might  have  crawled,  it  seemed  to  my  eyes 
in  the  yellow  obscuring  haze  and  in  the  haste  of 
the  moment  that  I  was  walled  in,  caught  in  a  cul- 
de-sac.  There  was  no  time  to  make  an  examination. 
I  whirled  about  and  met  Descarte  rushing  at  me. 

When  however  he  saw  that  I  waited  to  receive 
him,  he  abruptly  stopped.  My  foot  stirred  a  stick 
of  wood  and  stooping  quickly  I  picked  it  up ;  it  was 
perhaps  a  foot  long,  no  thicker  than  my  thumb,  a 
poor  weapon  of  defense,  but  still  a  weapon  of  a 
sort.  Desperate  men  clutch  at  straws;  I  clutched 
mine.  Esper  had  run  up  —  his  legs  were  too  short 
to  keep  the  swift  pace  Descarte  and  I  made  —  and 
now  stood  peering  at  us. 

"  You  have  him,"  he  panted. 

"  To  be  sure.  Come,  we  will  finish  it,"  Descarte 
snarled. 

But  Esper  did  not  respond,  nor  did  I  anticipate 
any  such  move  on  his  part.  Descarte  advanced  a 
step,  crouching  forward,  knife  held  at  the  end  of 
a  crooked  arm.  Suddenly  he  dashed  at  me ;  I  leaped 
aside  and  smote  him  on  the  cheek.  A  curse  burst 
from  his  lips,  a  curse  of  pain,  and  a  second  time 
he  flew  at  me,  lunging,  while  I  again  sprang  from 
the  boat  against  which  I  had  backed.  His  knife- 
point missing  its  mark  sank  into  the  wood;  and  as 
before  I  dealt  him  a  stinging  blow  upon  the  face. 


A    STRUGGLE   ON    THE    SANDS    239 

Contempt  for  the  stick  which  he  first  held  had  given 
way  to  respect;  jerking  his  knife  free,  he  retreated 
a  pace  or  two  and  guarded  me  in  my  corner. 

Thus  we  continued  for  a  time  watching  each 
other.  In  the  end  he  began  a  slow  cautious  crawling 
forward.  More  than  ever  he  looked  an  animal,  with 
his  bare  head  on  which  the  hair  fell  every  way  drawn 
down  into  his  shoulders,  his  body  crouching,  both 
hands  extended,  the  one  clutching  the  knife,  the 
other  empty.  So  had  similar  beasts  come  out  of 
their  holes  when  the  Bastille  tumbled!  Behind  him 
was  the  figure  of  Esper;  he  watched  motionless, 
giving  Descarte  no  assistance,  rendering  me  no  aid ; 
he  had  performed  his  part  of  our  bargain,  and  now 
it  remained  with  me  to  use  the  limbs  which  he  had 
freed.  Making  a  step  on  one  side,  I  sought  to 
widen  the  space  between  Descarte  and  the  boat  and 
leap  through,  but  my  antagonist  kept  even  with  me. 
I  slipped  to  the  other  side;  he  too  was  there. 

In  the  strange  yellow  haze  that  laid  a  ghastly  light 
upon  everything  I  could  see  the  man's  gleaming  eye- 
balls and  uncovered  teeth.  No  longer  was  it  for 
Del  Hervalle  or  Pilon  that  he  strove,  no  longer  for 
a  wage  did  he  fight,  but  the  lust  of  blood  fired  him, 
made  his  limbs  agile,  and  caused  his  nostrils  to 
quiver.  We  were  now  barely  out  of  reach  of  one 
another.  I  too  was  crouching,  knees  bent,  muscles 
tense,  eyes  never  leaving  his.  Then  he  launched 
himself  at  me.  With  all  my  strength  I  whipped 
the  stick  down  upon  his  hand;  something  snapped 


24o  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

—  stick,  wrist,  something  —  the  knife  dropped  at 
our  feet  and  then  I  found  myself  locked  in  his  claw- 
ing embrace.  Backward  and  forward  we  swayed 
for  a  time,  glaring,  straining,  our  hot  fierce  breaths 
mingling.  The  man  was  strong  —  by  Heaven,  he 
was  strong!  —  legs  of  iron,  arms  of  thick  oak,  hands 
of  steel.  Then  down  upon  the  sands  we  fell. 

Every  detail  of  that  picture,  blurred  by  fog  as 
it  was,  is  still  distinct  in  my  mind.  I  lay  on  my 
back,  for  in  the  trial  of  strength  he  had  bested  me; 
close  before  my  eyes  he  pressed  his  rage-drawn  face 
contorted  into  hideous  lines  and  wrinkles;  past  it 
and  overhead  were  the  masts  of  the  boats  rising 
vague  and  unsubstantial  and  ghostly.  Esper  had 
drawn  near;  he  bent  forward  in  excitement,  rest- 
ing his  hands  upon  his  knees  and  smiling  his  fan- 
tastic smile.  Once  he  moistened  his  lips  and  half 
lifted  his  knife,  as  if  to  plunge  it  into  Descarte's 
back,  but  he  let  his  hand  drop  again  upon  his  knee. 
And  all  about  us  was  the  strange  golden  fog. 

Descarte  had  his  hands  under  my  body,  where  I 
had  fallen  upon  them.  Gripping  his  arms  with  mine, 
I  sought  to  hold  him ;  he  tugged,  gritting  his  teeth ; 
I  could  feel  the  convulsive  squirming  of  his  body 
upon  my  own.  Then,  keeping  his  chest  tight  on 
mine,  he  began  drawing  up  his  knees ;  inch  by  inch 
he  worked  them  forward.  That  I  dare  not  allow, 
or  he  would  presently  have  them  doubled  under  him 
and  upon  my  trunk,  with  which  leverage  he  could 
free  his  hands  and  have  me  at  his  mercy.  In  the 


A    STRUGGLE    ON    THE    SANDS     241 

minute  or  two  while  we  lay  thus  at  grip  I  had  grown 
cooler  and  was  able  to  calculate  my  chances,  des- 
perate as  they  were.  He  was  stronger  than  I,  the 
fact  had  already  been  demonstrated;  by  superior 
skill  or  by  some  trick  must  I  win  the  victory.  While 
I  swiftly  considered,  I  locked  my  legs  over  his 
and  halted  their  upward  drag.  I  tried  a  quick  turn 
of  his  body  —  it  nearly  caught  him,  but  he  recovered 
himself  and  gritting  out  an  oath  between  his  teeth 
once  more  pressed  me  back.  The  holds  and  clinches 
known  to  wrestlers  I  dare  not  chance,  for  did  I  but 
cease  the  pressure  I  exerted  upon  his  arms,  aye,  even 
for  the  fraction  of  a  second,  he  would  have  had 
one  of  his  powerful  hands  out  and  about  my  throat. 
Under  my  back  I  could  feel  them  opening  and  shut- 
ting, working  furiously.  Nothing  of  wrestlers'  laws 
knew  he;  his  were  the  brute's  straight  instinctive 
methods.  Again  he  began  to  draw  up  his  knees; 
tighter  I  locked  my  leg-grip.  I  could  hear  Esper, 
strung  with  excitement  of  the  contest,  whispering 
to  himself. 

By  now  the  tremendous  strain  was  telling  on  us 
both.  Perspiration  burst  from  our  foreheads  and 
streamed  upon  our  faces;  our  chests  heaved  one 
against  the  other  with  the  labor  of  our  breathing; 
yet  to  the  one  watcher  we  must  have  appeared  as 
immovable  as  a  sculptured  piece  of  marble.  I  could 
feel  the  cords  standing  taut  upon  my  temples; 
Descarte's  face  appeared  a  devilish  masque  cast  in 
iron;  the  thumping  of  our  hearts  sounded  like  the 


242  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

hurried  beat  of  drums.  Never  for  an  instant  did 
the  contracting  pull  of  his  legs  halt,  never  for  an 
instant  did  his  muscles  relax,  while  I  ceased  to  see 
anything  but  his  two  burning  eyeballs.  A  little,  a 
steady  remorseless  little,  his  legs  drew  through  mine, 
little  by  little  his  back  arched,  his  knees  hitched 
upward. 

At  another  time  I  might  have  held  him,  indeed, 
I  have  persuaded  myself  to  the  belief  that  I  could 
have  done  so.  But  now  I  was  far  from  proper  con- 
dition for  any  struggle,  let  alone  one  with  such  a 
man;  I  had  been  strapped  ten  hours  in  a  chair, 
bones  were  sore,  muscles  tired.  I  had  had  no  water 
all  day  —  what  so  much  as  thirst  saps  the  strength 
and  steals  one's  reserve  ?  —  and  had  no  food.  How 
indeed  for  so  long  I  was  able  to  hold  him  on  equal 
terms,  unless  by  sheer  nerve  or  by  a  kind  of  fighting 
madness,  has  always  been  a  wonder  to  me.  In 
his  squat  thick  shape  there  was  concealed  the  im- 
mense power  of  a  gorilla.  Brain  he  had  little; 
there  was  no  cunning,  no  craft,  no  guile  in  his 
assault,  no  sudden  surprise  to  be  met  in  his  attack. 
His  was  a  steady,  blind,  enormous  effort  to  crush. 

And  at  last  he  got  one  knee  upon  my  thigh.  He 
gave  a  jerk  and  his  right  hand  came  free  from  under 
my  back.  A  thrill  of  fear  shot  through  me  I  locked 
his  arm  in  mine;  desperately  twisting,  hauling, 
swaying,  he  sought  to  tear  it  out  of  my  grip.  A 
snarl  was  on  his  lips,  a  growl  on  his  tongue;  the 
little  brass  ring  trembled  in  his  ear.  Now  by  some 


A    STRUGGLE   ON    THE    SANDS    243 

sudden  move  I  should  have  whirled  him  over,  but 
weakness  was  stealing  through  my  body.  He 
wrenched  his  arm  free,  next  instant  his  ringers 
clutched  my  throat.  I  caught  his  wrist,  pulling  at 
it.  It  did  not  yield.  The  breath  fought  in  my 
lungs,  the  veins  in  my  temples  seemed  to  burst. 
Before  me  Descarte's  wolfish  features,  and  past  his 
shoulder  Esper's  knotted  face,  the  face  of  the  one 
watcher  who  had  crept  near,  and  still  past  him  the 
faint  yellow  disk  of  the  moon,  all  began  to  sway 
and  swing  dizzily.  Roaring  was  in  my  ears,  fires 
were  in  my  brain. 

When  I  became  conscious  it  was  of  a  dead  weight 
upon  my  body.  The  ringing  was  still  in  my  ears, 
blood  yet  pounded  at  my  temples,  but  I  was  breath- 
ing deep,  life-giving  breaths.  For  a  while  I  did 
not  move,  lying  with  closed  eyes.  The  man's  hand 
was  still  on  my  throat,  now  however  an  idle  hand. 
When  I  lifted  my  eyelids  it  was  no  longer  to  see 
Descarte's  fierce  face,  only  the  tangled  mat  of  his 
hair,  for  his  head  had  fallen  on  my  breast;  in  the 
crotch  of  my  loin  his  knee  remained,  his  back  was 
still  arched.  Down  upon  us  looked  the  moon  and 
Esper's  twisted  features.  My  glance  fell  upon  the 
handle  of  the  knife  which  was  buried  in  the  man's 
back.  He  was  dead.  At  the  last  instant  Esper,  that 
strange  enigma  of  a  human  being,  had  plucked  up 
and  planted  the  villain's  own  knife  in  Descarte's 
body.  With  an  effort  that  seemed  to  exhaust  me 
I  pushed  the  man  off,  then  rolled  over  and  struggled 


244  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

to  my  knees,  then  to  my  feet.  Esper  caught  me 
with  a  supporting  hand,  assisted  me  to  the  side  of 
a  boat,  where  I  leaned  for  a  time  seeking  to  over- 
come the  sickness  that  was  on  me,  the  sickness  of 
exhaustion  and  horror  and  almost  of  the  kiss  of 
death.  My  throat  seemed  to  have  been  torn  out; 
I  could  only  rub  it  feebly.  My  brain  refused  to 
work.  I  looked  stupidly  at  the  huddled  lump  of 
the  dead  man  lying  on  the  sands. 

Presently  Esper  ran  down  to  a  pool  and  returned 
bearing  his  hat  full  and  dripping.  He  dashed  water 
into  my  face  and  under  its  stimulation  my  thoughts 
cleared,  the  paralysis  left  my  body,  and  horror  de- 
parted from  my  mind.  So,  stretching  my  arms  and 
stamping  my  feet,  I  regained  a  little  energy,  while 
Esper  put  on  his  wet  hat  from  which  drops  fell 
about  the  rim,  and  looked  all  around  him  at  the 
night.  For  a  moment  neither  of  us  spoke ;  I  glanced 
up  at  the  faint  moon  and  at  the  shadowy  boats 
standing  close  and  silent  in  the  weird,  yellow,  un- 
earthly light,  then  finally  down  once  more  at  the 
dark  object  on  the  sand  at  our  feet. 

Esper  blew  on  his  finger-nails,  smiling  his  queer 
flickering  smile,  and  gazed  at  me  sidewise. 

"  But,  mon  Dieu,"  he  said,  "  that  was  not  a  joke, 
that  little  can-can  of  yours ! " 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE   TEUTONIC    METHOD 

Time  has  a  fashion  of  playing  queer  tricks  with 
clocks.  Now  the  hours  will  flit  by  like  dust-specks 
through  a  sunbeam,  now  they  will  lag  like  dragged 
weights ;  let  the  mind  be  free  of  all  but  routine  inci- 
dents and  the  minutes  will  be  ticked  off  unnoticed, 
let  event  crowd  on  event  and  seconds  will  swell 
to  hours,  hours  to  days.  It  seemed  as  if  weeks  had 
passed  since  I  had  set  foot  on  the  strand  to  come  to 
the  village  in  answer  to  the  betraying  message,  yet 
but  ten  hours  had  elapsed.  Morning  beheld  me 
lightly  chaffing  Andrew  over  a  breakfast  omelet; 
night  saw  me  standing  over  a  man  newly  killed. 
All  the  fantastic  happenings  of  the  day  had  thrown 
time  out  of  gear,  stretched  it  tremendously.  Kalei- 
doscopic scenes  succeeded  one  another  in  my  mind: 
the  coming  of  the  messenger,  the  hurrying  up  the 
street,  the  blind  unequal  struggle  in  the  room,  my 
form  bound  to  the  chair,  the  jeering  of  Pilon,  my 
peering  out  the  window,  the  visit  of  Senor  Del 
Hervalle,  the  breaking  of  the  pane,  the  terrible  fas- 
cination of  watching  the  three  men  below  me,  my 
shouts  to  Billy,  my  dealings  with  Esper,  the  hurled 
chair,  flight  down  the  stair  and  along  the  golden 


246  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

fog-filled  street,  the  cautious  crouching  of  Descarte 
and  me,  the  struggle  fierce  and  savage  —  and  now 
Descarte's  body  like  a  black  period  at  the  end  of  the 
paragraph,  lying  on  the  sands. 

Esper  spoke  to  me.  "  Will  you  not  go  home  now, 
monsieur?" 

There  was  a  note  of  solicitude  in  his  voice.  I  laid 
a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Yes  — and  you?" 

"  It 's  not  best  that  I  go  with  you  yet,  master, 
while  Pilon  and  the  Senor  are  angry.  Pilon's  knife 
might  peep  in  between  my  ribs  and  I  should  open 
my  eyes  wide  in  surprise.  No,  that  will  not  do.  I 
shall  go  back  to  the  house  and  tell  a  fine  story." 
For  a  moment  he  mused.  "  I  shall  go  back  run- 
ning, scarcely  able  to  gasp  for  breath  and  fright, 
my  hair  standing  on  end."  How  that  would  be 
accomplished  I  could  not  conceive.  "  Upon  a  stool  I 
will  collapse  —  I  point,  stutter,  cry  out  that  Descarte 
is  dead  like  a  pig,  that  I  killed  him  because  he  set 
you  free,  and  that  you  chased  me  all  the  way  up  the 
street  even  to  the  door,  with  a  great  club  and  greater 
curses.  That  will  make  a  fine  tale,  eh  ?  " 

"  It  will  satisfy  even  Senor  Del  Hervalle." 

"  But  he  will  not  laugh." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  he  will  laugh.  The  manner 
in  which  his  plan  has  turned  out  will  hardly  amuse 
him." 

"  Ah,  the  Senor  and  Pilon  will  depart  quickly 
from  Lavouche,  master,  I  am  of  the  opinion." 


THE   TEUTONIC    METHOD          247 

"Why  do  you  think  so,  little  Esper?" 

"  They  sought  to  kill  and  pickle  you." 

"  They  may  invent  a  tale  also." 

Esper  was  visibly  impressed.  He  looked  up  at 
the  moon,  down  at  Descarte's  body,  and  rubbed  his 
nose  reflectively. 

"  Yes,  a  tale  could  be  made." 

"  Can  you  guess,  my  valet,  how  the  tale  will 
run?" 

Again  he  rubbed  his  nose,  eying  me.     "  A  little." 

"  Del  Hervalle  will  invent  the  tale  and  Pilon  will 
tell  it,  and  much  money  will  be  offered  Esper  also 
to  tell  it." 

"  There  will  be  money  then  ?  " 

"  Undoubtedly." 

"  That  is  something ;  Lavouche  seems  a  very  good 
little  purse  for  money." 

"  But  you  are  my  valet." 

"  Humph,"  said  he  thoughtfully. 

"  And  therefore  cannot  tell  the  tale." 

He  looked  about  at  the  masts  and  off  towards  the 
island. 

"  Humph,"  said  he  once  more,  in  a  study. 

"Well?"  I  asked. 

"How  much  money  will  there  be,  master?" 

"  That  depends  on  what  amount  you  could  squeeze 
out  of  them." 

"  Ah,  then  Senor  would  be  an  orange  too ;  I  could 
squeeze  out  a  great  deal." 

"  Unless  he  grew  weary  of  being  pressed  and  had 


248  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

Pilon  stop  the  sport  with  his  knife,  after  which 
happening  what  Esper  could  say  or  do  would  not 
matter.  The  tale  of  Pilon  alone  would  be  enough. 
It  is  better  to  be  a  valet." 

"  Judgment  would  be  necessary  in  order  to  squeeze 
the  Senor  just  far  enough,"  he  remarked. 

"  Then  you  would  lose  your  master  and  the  five 
hundred  dollars." 

"  Explain  how  lose  that  five  hundred  dollars?  If 
you  should  have  the  honor,  monsieur,  of  going  to 
prison,  you  would  yet  have  some  days  to  pay  the 
money." 

"  And  you  would  fatten  on  extortion  from  both 
Senor  Del  Hervalle  and  me." 

"  Extortion  —  I  like  not  that  word." 

I  closed  my  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "  Accept 
Senor' s  money,  telling  the  tale  he  will  invent,  and 
I  '11  fill  your  little  carcass  with  bullets.  You  shall 
speak  the  truth  when  the  time  comes  or  you  '11  join 
Descarte." 

"  I  do  not  prefer  the  company  of  Descarte.  Yet 
a  fresh  orange  —  "  He  did  not  finish. 

"  My  warning  is  clear." 

Lifting  his  face,  he  gazed  at  me,  mouth  and  nose 
drawn  to  one  side  in  his  whimsical  smile.  That  I 
should  do  as  I  said,  he  read  in  my  eyes. 

"Master  —  " 

'  That  is  better,  always  say  '  master.' ' 

"  Pardon,  '  monsieur  '  was  what  I  intended.  I 
will  consider  the  matter." 


THE    TEUTONIC    METHOD          249 

My  hand  still  grasped  his  shoulder.  I  increased 
the  pressure. 

"  Aye,  consider  it  and  carefully.  Now  I  shall 
go  home." 

Out  from  amongst  the  tangle  of  boats  we  went. 
When  we  listened,  there  was  no  sound  save  that  of 
the  distant  surf  rolling  on  the  shore  Mayhap  Sefior 
Del  Hervalle  awaited  in  the  attic  of  the  ancient  stone 
house  some  tidings  of  the  pursuit;  mayhap  Pilon 
smoked  somewhere  up  yonder  in  the  fog  where  his 
boat  lay  ready  on  the  water,  and  cursed  and  won- 
dered why  no  one  came.  Del  Hervalle  should  have 
his  tidings,  but  Pilon  might  wait  till  his  boat  rotted 
before  any  prisoner  came. 

"  I  will  begin  running  that  I  may  tell  my  tale 
without  breath,"  Esper  announced.  "  Also  it  will 
be  best  to  be  without  a  hat."  He  flung  it  upon  the 
sand  and  drew  his  knife.  "  I  bid  you  good  evening, 
master  or  monsieur,  which  one  I  do  not  as  yet 
know."  And  he  set  off  on  a  run  towards  the  street, 
melting  away  in  the  fog. 

Turning  my  face  southward,  I  walked  slowly 
along  the  beach.  Directions  were  difficult  to  keep, 
and  I  drew  in  nearer  to  the  dark  outline  of  the  bor- 
dering trees  which  would  serve  me  as  a  guide.  The 
weird  yellow  fog  was  all  about  me.  I  could  hear  the 
faint  murmur  which  continues  in  a  wood  even  upon 
the  quietest  night,  the  little  talk  of  insects  and  leaves 
and  bark  and  dripping  moisture.  And  always  there 
was  the  steady  insistent  muffled  note  of  the  sea. 


250  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

Half  the  distance  I  had  covered  when  I  heard 
voices.  Strung  as  I  still  was  by  the  excitement 
through  which  I  had  passed,  my  nerves  on  edge, 
my  mind  quick  to  conceive  danger,  I  listened  while 
my  heart  beat  a  fresh  alarm.  Danger  I  had  breathed 
for  ten  hours ;  the  whole  island  seemed  yet  to  bristle 
with  new  and  invisible  dangers.  The  speakers  drew 
nearer;  I  could  see  their  shapes,  vague  blurs  in 
the  fog,  two  of  them,  and  presently  I  recognized 
Andrew's  substantial  tones  in  speaking.  I  uttered 
a  shout,  and  they  hurried  to  me. 

"  It 's  you,  then,"  Billy  Harrington  exclaimed, 
when  they  joined  me.  "  What  have  you  been  up 
to?  We've  been  worried  to  death."  He  peered 
into  my  face.  "  Why,  man,  you  look  as  if  you  'd 
been  shot  out  of  a  twelve-inch  gun  —  hat  gone,  face 
dirty,  head  bloody,  clothes  torn." 

"  Perhaps  I  do,"  I  answered.  "  I  've  been  a  pris- 
oner all  day  and  have  just  now  come  near  being 
killed." 

"  Oh,  Master  Charles  —  oh,  Master  Charles,  if 
I  had  only  known  where  to  come  to  you ! "  Andrew 
cried  with  emotion. 

How  good  it  was  to  have  such  staunch  friends! 
Good  noble  old  Andrew,  who  would  have  run  his 
gray  head  into  any  danger  to  save  me  a  jot  of  pain ; 
honest  Billy  Harrington,  who  would  have  followed 
me,  eager  as  a  hound  upon  a  scent,  into  any  den  of 
scoundrels ! 

As  we  walked  to  Stag  Lodge,  I  briefly  told  my 


THE   TEUTONIC    METHOD          251 

story,  how  I  had  been  trapped,  imprisoned,  released, 
and  recounted  my  final  struggle  with  Descarte. 
Then  I  learned  what  had  occurred  during  my  ab- 
sence. When  I  had  not  appeared  for  lunch,  Andrew 
had  not  been  greatly  surprised,  for  he  knew  that  I 
sometimes  stayed  at  Moore  House;  that  I  was  not 
fishing  he  knew  by  the  cat-boat,  which  was  still 
overturned  upon  the  beach  exactly  as  I  had  left  it 
in  order  that  the  new  paint  might  dry.  About  three 
o'clock  however  doubts  began  to  assail  him;  the 
previous  visit  of  the  fishermen  arose  in  his  mind, 
as  well  as  recollection  of  my  surveillance  by  that 
rascal  Esper  and  my  throwing  Pilon  into  the  water. 
Any  one  of  these  embroilments  might  have  a  con- 
nection with  my  absence.  He  put  on  his  hat  and 
made  his  way  to  Moore  House,  where  he  learned 
that  I  had  not  appeared;  Betty,  to  whom  he  con- 
fided his  doubts  and  vague  fears,  also  became 
alarmed;  they  determined  upon  a  search.  Into 
the  wood  they  went  a  little  way,  but  of  course  found 
nothing.  At  the  village  it  appeared  that  no  one 
had  seen  me,  since  it  happened  that  I  had  passed 
up  the  street  in  the  middle  of  the  morning  when 
men  were  absent  and  housewives  busy.  Betty,  re- 
membering the  sinister  warning  which  Margot  had 
given  her  to  deliver,  grew  more  anxious.  Beware 
strange  doors  —  but  what  doors  ?  Sending  Andrew 
back  to  look  again  in  the  wood,  she  went  up  the 
street  examining  every  door  on  each  side;  nothing 
out  of  the  common  rewarded  her  —  they  seemed 


252  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

only  ordinary  doors.  Then  she  decided  in  spite  of 
her  antipathy  for  the  dark  mysterious  woman  to  seek 
Margot  and  question  her  as  to  her  enigmatical 
words.  Margot  was  at  such  and  such  a  neighbor's, 
she  learned  from  Margot's  mother,  and  when  she 
reached  the  designated  neighbor's  Margot  had  gone, 
it  was  not  known  whither.  Disappointed  in  this 
direction,  disquieted  by  uncertain  fears,  she  knew 
not  what  to  do.  Depressed,  anxious,  weary,  she  set 
out  for  home.  On  the  way  she  found  Andrew  stand- 
ing on  the  wood  road.  He  had  returned  to  the 
Lodge,  where  upon  the  veranda  he  discovered  the 
Baron,  who  was  somewhat  surprised  that  he  had 
not  been  escorted  that  day  by  Descarte,  but  account- 
ing for  it  on  the  ground  of  the  fellow's  sore  feet; 
somewhat  curious  too  that  neither  Andrew  nor  I 
was  at  home.  My  servant  made  the  conventional 
answer  that  I  was  spending  the  day  out  and  would 
return  that  evening,  whereupon  the  Baron  had  taken 
his  departure.  To  Mr.  Moore  Betty  and  Andrew 
expressed  their  fears ;  he  only  laughed.  Could  n't 
a  young  fellow  miss  a  meal  without  anything  being 
the  matter?  I  would  show  up  in  a  short  time. 
As  it  was  now  approaching  six  o'clock  and  a  guest 
would  soon  arrive  in  the  person  of  William  Har- 
rington, Andrew  once  more  took  his  way  homeward. 
He  went  about  the  preparation  of  supper  with  a 
very  heavy  heart;  somehow  fear  haunted  him  in 
spite  of  all  logic  —  besides,  I  was  one  to  get  into 
trouble;  had  I  not  caused  him  immeasurably  more 


THE    TEUTONIC    METHOD          253 

worry  than  had  either  my  father  or  my  grand- 
father, or  both  put  together  ?  Thus  he  mixed  doubt 
with  his  batter  and  stirred  anxiety  in  the  gravy. 
Finally,  when  it  was  near  seven,  Harrington 
appeared. 

To  him,  while  he  ate,  Andrew  made  known  my 
disappearance.  Billy  ruminated.  I  might  be  about 
some  business  of  my  own;  on  the  other  hand,  had 
I  received  his  wire?  Yes,  and  had  planned  to  meet 
him  with  a  cart  at  the  railway  station,  but  Antoine's 
cart,  which  I  was  to  have  used,  had  not  been  called 
for.  Billy  ruminated  afresh,  he  cheered  Andrew  and 
ruminated ;  for  did  he  not  recall  the  singular  occur- 
rence which  had  happened  when  he  went  up  the 
village  street  to  inquire  the  way  to  my  house?  A 
voice  had  shouted  his  name,  my  voice;  a  blood- 
curdling yell  had  resounded  between  the  walls,  my 
yell.  But  I  was  nowhere  to  be  seen  when  he  looked 
about  and  then  no  longer  to  be  heard.  Where  had 
that  wild  yell  come  from?  He  had  cast  about  in 
every  direction;  before  him  a  short  distance  stood 
a  little  fellow  who  smiled  crookedly  and  said  the 
man  who  yelled  was  a  drunkard  in  the  attic  of  the 
house,  a  toper  who  believed  rats  were  gnawing  his 
toes.  Oh,  yes,  it  was  only  that  pig  of  a  drunkard. 
So  Harrington,  imagining  himself  to  have  been  de- 
ceived in  my  voice,  had  turned  into  the  inn,  asked 
the  road  to  my  house,  and  being  informed  thereupon 
set  forth  anew. 

Eight  o'clock  struck  by  the  time  he  finished  sup- 


254  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

per.  Fog  covered  the  island,  darkness  had  closed 
down ;  the  pair  of  men  could  do  nothing  but  specu- 
late upon  my  whereabouts.  They  sat  before  the  fire- 
place one  on  each  side,  smoking  their  pipes,  now 
and  again  uttering  a  surmise,  though  for  the  most 
part  silent;  at  nine  o'clock,  at  which  time  the  moon 
rose  and  in  a  degree  lighted  the  foggy  night,  they 
decided  to  make  a  fresh  search.  For,  as  Harring- 
ton sat  and  pondered,  recollection  of  my  frantic  yell 
grew  upon  him;  that  it  was  my  voice  he  was  confi- 
dent and  reluctantly  informed  Andrew  of  his  adven- 
ture. They  wandered  down  to  my  little  wharf  be- 
fore starting  for  the  village,  on  the  chance  of  finding 
me  there,  but  instead  encountered  the  Baron,  who 
was  looking  out  to  sea.  He  also  displayed  anxiety 
over  my  disappearance,  which  was  not  strange  con- 
sidering that  though  he  was  an  opponent  he  had 
eaten  of  my  bread  and  salt  and  was  a  gentleman.  A' 
few  suggestions  he  offered,  he  asked  a  number  of 
questions,  and  showed  that  he  was  a  great  deal  dis- 
turbed by  the  news.  He  had  come  to  Stag  Lodge  to 
while  away  a  dull  evening,  he  explained,  and  he  ex- 
pressed every  hope  of  my  speedy  return  without 
misadventure.  Were  we  going  to  the  village  ?  Then 
he  would  remain  on  the  spot  to  watch  in  case  I 
came  during  their  absence.  Certainly  the  Baron 
was  a  gentleman  whom  one  would  wish  to  number 
among  one's  friends. 

"  Well,  I  came  at  last,"  I  said. 

"  Very  hungry  you  must  be  too,  Master  Charles," 


THE   TEUTONIC    METHOD          255 

Andrew  said,  "  for  you  've  had  nothing  all  day. 
Whatever  you  wish,  I  '11  prepare." 

"  Let  it  be  something  solid  and  plenty  of  it." 

Billy  was  dissatisfied.  "  I  call  this  devilish  hard 
luck  for  me  to  miss  all  the  fun  and  not  get  a  whack 
at  those  fellows." 

"  We  've  not  finished  with  them  yet,  by  any 
means,"  I  answered. 

"  I  hope  not.  Certainly  I  was  stupid  this  evening 
when  I  heard  you  yell  and  did  n't  follow  the  cry. 
I  should  have  gone  into  that  house  and  up  the  stair 
ten  steps  at  a  time." 

I  smiled.  "  One  can't  go  tearing  into  strange 
houses,  you  know,  on  a  mere  suspicion.  Besides, 
you  could  n't  be  expected  to  know  that  I  was  in  a 
particularly  interesting  situation,  and  further  you 
did  n't  know  which  house  to  rush." 

"  I  could  have  looked  around  a  bit." 

Clearly  he  believed  that  he  had  missed  an  oppor- 
tunity. The  rest  of  his  life  would  be  lived  with 
that  memory  to  vex  him. 

"  Never  fear,  if  I  know  Del  Hervalle  and  Pilon 
there  '11  be  chances  yet,"  said  I.  "  I  'm  glad  there  's 
nothing  more  to  happen  to-night,  I  'm  tired  as  a 
dog." 

Of  the  chances  that  were  to  come  I  spoke  truly; 
of  the  uneventfulness  of  the  night,  not  so  near  the 
truth.  We  came  at  last  to  the  edge  of  the  wood, 
where  it  ^gave  way  before  my  lawn.  Billy  sent  a 
hail  to  the  Baron,  who  had  remained  at  the  wharf, 


256  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

but  there  was  no  response,  and  so,  agreeing  with 
Andrew's  suggestion  that  he  had  probably  walked 
a  little  distance  up  the  east  beach  and  would  pres- 
ently return,  we  began  the  ascent  of  the  slope. 
The  lighted  windows  would  inform  him  of  our 
arrival. 

"  But  I  'm  hardly  in  a  state  to  entertain  visitors," 
I  said,  "  either  the  Baron  or  yourself.  A  bath,  sup- 
per, and  bed  for  me." 

"  I  '11  do  the  entertaining,"  Billy  replied.  "  Who 
is  the  German  gentleman  anyway?" 

"  Baron  von  Hussman.  Of  the  army  too,  though 
he  has  not  committed  himself  as  to  his  rank."  I 
described  the  circumstances  of  our  meeting,  en- 
counter, and  subsequent  acquaintance.  "  So  you 
see  that  our  friendship,  if  such  it  may  be  called,  is 
upon  a  conditional  footing.  He  's  after  the  map ; 
I  am  hiding  it  from  him.  Just  as  in  the  case  of 
Del  Hervalle,  while  we  play  the  game,  we  preserve 
the  outward  amenities.  And  there  are  girls  here," 
I  added  maliciously. 

He  stopped  deadv  and  when  he  spoke  it  was  in  an 
aggrieved  tone. 

"  Why  the  deuce  do  you  want  to  spoil  it  with 
girls?" 

I  laughed.     "  They  are  very  nice  girls." 

"Of  course.  But  this  is  a  man's  island  and  a 
man's  war.  Girls  ought  to  stay  at  home.  They  '11 
get  their  skirts  in  the  way  and  upset  the  fun." 

"  I  think  not." 


THE    TEUTONIC    METHOD          257 

"  Well,  I  know,"  he  said  with  emphasis.  "  I  Ve 
experienced  them  of  old." 

"  You  need  n't  worry  in  Lavouche,"  I  replied, 
starting  up  the  lawn.  "  Senor  Del  Hervalle  will  see 
to  that  —  and  besides  they  add  a  touch  of  color  to 
the  war." 

Not  for  a  million  diamonds  would  I  have  had 
Betty  away  from  Lavouche,  not  since  I  had  learned 
the  interest  my  unknown  fate  had  aroused  in  her. 
Love  could  only  have  sent  her  worrying,  scurrying 
about  the  island  and  through  the  village  with 
Andrew  in  search  of  me.  I  wondered  if  at  this 
very  minute  she  was  not  questioning  the  night  of 
my  whereabouts. 

Inside  the  house  Andrew  lighted  a  lamp  and  went 
into  the  kitchen  to  cook  my  supper.  Billy  and  I 
stood  before  the  fire  warming  our  hands. 

"  This  map  has  turned  out  to  be  something,  after 
all,"  he  remarked. 

"  Yes." 

"  Have  you  learned  which  particular  fortress 
it  is?" 

"  No,  Del  Hervalle,  the  scoundrel,  knows  of 
course,  as  he  knew  the  facts  of  every  affair  in 
which  Douglass  was  mixed.  But  he  declines  to 
tell." 

"  Well,  we  '11  have  to  find  out." 

"  That  will  be  difficult." 

"  When  we  Ve  caught  the  Senor  and  tied  him  up, 
we  '11  see.  I  know  a  trick  or  two  to  make  obstinate 


258  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

men  talk."  Billy  spoke  cold-bloodedly  and  business- 
like. 

"  I  '11  gladly  assist  you  at  the  operation,"  I 
stated. 

He  meditated  for  a  moment. 

"  There  's  no  danger  of  his  stealing  the  map,  is 
there?" 

"  Steal  it,  no.  He  has  had  his  fingers  within  an 
inch  of  it,  so  has  the  Baron,  and  neither  ever 
divined  the  fact." 

"  Then  it  must  be  well  hid." 

"  Wait,  I  '11  show  you."  I  fetched  the  tankard. 
"  There." 

Billy  looked  at  it  with  a  puzzled  eye. 

"Inside?" 

"  Yes,  inside." 

I  lifted  the  top  to  allow  him  to  peer  in. 

"  I  see  nothing  but  the  bottom." 

"  Here,  come  across  to  the  light."  I  set  the  tank- 
ard upon  the  table.  "  See  the  small  plug?  That 
holds  a  flat  dish.  You  mistake  it  for  the  bottom, 
even  now  with  little  wine  over  it.  When  it  is  filled, 
you  do  not  see  it  at  all." 

He  straightened  up. 

"  Fine !  Your  friend,  the  Baron,  would  give  a 
thousand  dollars  to  know  that  secret." 

A  quiet  voice  spoke  from  near  by. 

"  I  'm  afraid  that  you  overstate  the  amount." 

Just  in  front  of  the  portieres  which  hung  before 
a  door  of  a  bedchamber  stood  the  Baron  himself. 


THE    TEUTONIC   METHOD          259 

A  smile  was  on  his  lips,  a  revolver  in  his  hand. 
Beside  him  was  a  second  man,  bearded,  garbed  in 
yachting  costume.  He  also  pointed  a  revolver. 

I  began  to  believe  with  the  Baron  that  the  amount 
which  had  been  quoted  was  rather  high. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

WANTED  —  A   FORTRESS 

They  advanced  closer. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  must  beg  of  you  to  make  no  re- 
sistance, nor  raise  a  cry,"  Von  Hussman  addressed 
us,  impressing  his  remarks  with  the  point  of  the 
pistol  he  carried  ready.  "  It  would  be  of  no  use  in 
any  case.  I  shall  take  charge  of  the  tankard,  if  you 
please,  and  we  will  now  go  down  to  the  beach. 
Kindly  give  me  your  attention  while  I  explain  what 
it  is  necessary  to  do;  the  dingey  of  my  friend's 
yacht  is  awaiting  us  a  little  way  up  from  your  wharf, 
Mr.  Woodworth,  and  we  will  proceed  to  it.  On 
the  yacht  we  shall  drop  a  few  miles  down  the  coast 
and  set  you  ashore,  which  will  prevent  you  from 
giving  an  immediate  alarm  and  at  the  same  time 
enable  us  to  put  well  out  to  sea.  I  regret  that  occa- 
sion has  arisen  for  making  such  a  return  for  the 
hospitality  that  I  have  enjoyed  at  Stag  Lodge,  but 
circumstances  often  force  us  into  an  apparent  dis- 
courtesy. None  is  intended."  He  smiled  quietly. 
"  As  I  say,  resistance  is  useless.  You,  Mr.  Wood- 
worth,  have  become  well  enough  acquainted  with 
me  to  know  that  in  this  matter  I  am  in  earnest; 
I  will  if  necessary  shoot  one  of  you,  and  my  friend, 


WANTED  — A    FORTRESS  261 

Herr  Amsen,  will  dispose  of  the  other.  We  now 
understand  the  affair  and  will  go  ahead.  Mr.  Wood- 
worth,  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  carry  the  tankard 
—  and  I  must  insist  that  you  make  no  effort  to 
shake  out  the  dish  which  you  have  mentioned  as 
being  in  it." 

He  locked  his  arm  in  mine,  his  friend  did  the 
same  with  Billy,  and  we  walked  through  the  door 
and  out  into  the  night,  I  bearing  a  gift  to  the 
Germans. 

"  With  your  permission,  I  would  speak,"  said  I. 

"  To  be  sure,  there  's  nothing  to  prevent  conver- 
sation," the  Baron  laughed. 

But  I  was  not  in  a  laughing  humor.  Instead 
I  looked  grimly  at  Billy,  who  was  marching  in 
silence  in  the  arm-grip  of  the  sturdy,  bearded 
yachtsman. 

"  I  desire  only  to  remind  my  friend,  Lieutenant 
Harrington,  of  his  recent  remark  in  which  he  ex- 
pressed a  fear  that  he  would  have  no  chance  for 
fun." 

Billy  said  nothing,  neither  did  he  look  my  way. 
The  Baron  however  was  amused. 

"  And  so  Mr.  Harrington  is  an  officer,"  said  he. 
"In  the  American  army,  I  suppose?" 

"  Quite  right." 

"  That  is  good.  I  have  the  honor  to  fill  an  offi- 
cer's rank  in  the  army  of  my  own  country.  While 
we  are  sailing  down  the  coast,  he  and  I  shall  discuss 
military  subjects,  shall  we  not,  Lieutenant  ?  We  '11 


262  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

have  a  famous  discussion,  in  fact,  one  on  the  modern 
theory  of  strategy." 

"  I  fear  that  late  practice  would  tell  to  your  ad- 
vantage, Baron,"  Billy  retorted. 

"  Possibly.  This  evening,  for  example.  The 
maxim,  Unexpected  Attack  in  Superior  Strength, 
is  still  unassailable  as  a  war  measure."  Decidedly 
the  Baron  was  amused. 

We  reached  the  wharf,  turned  north,  and  fol- 
lowed up  the  beach  a  hundred  yards  to  where  we 
came  upon  a  boat.  Two  stout  sailors,  dressed  in 
blue  uniforms,  came  smartly  to  attention  as  we 
stopped.  Amsen,  who  appeared  to  be  both  owner 
and  captain  of  the  yacht  for  which  we  were  bound, 
assisted  Billy  into  the  boat,  still  keeping  fast  hold 
upon  his  arm,  while  the  Baron  guided  me  to  a  seat 
and  dropped  down  by  my  side.  The  sailors  pushed 
off,  sprang  in,  and  seized  their  oars. 

"  You  're  a  little  surprised  at  the  turn  of  events, 
my  dear  Woodworth,"  said  my  seat-mate. 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you  would  spring  some  trick  pretty 
soon." 

The  Baron  fingered  his  moustache,  stroking  its 
ends  upward  complacently. 

"  I  was  really  on  my  way  to  join  Amsden  at 
Boston  for  a  short  cruise  when  I  made  your  ac- 
quaintance on  the  train.  The  map  interested  me, 
so  I  dropped  him  a  wire  to  hold  up  till  he  received 
further  word.  That  was  a  heavy  check  you  gave 
me  over  yonder,  the  evening  of  our  coming." 


WANTED  — A   FORTRESS  263 

"  You  're  having  your  revenge  now,  Baron." 

"  Revenge,  oh  no.  That  blow  did  not  rankle  in 
my  heart;  on  the  contrary,  it  aroused  my  respect. 
It 's  a  solid  fist  you  carry." 

I  moved  the  tankard  on  my  lap.  Disgust,  not 
wrath,  filled  me.  To  have  such  a  tame  and  farcical 
ending  to  the  day,  and  to  have  it  with  this  German 
opponent  after  what  I  had  been  through  with  Seiior 
Del  Hervalle,  drained  me  of  anger.  Once  the  no- 
tion to  fling  the  tankard  into  the  sea  flashed  into 
my  mind;  but  the  Baron's  hand  which  held  the 
revolver  rested  in  plain  view  upon  his  knee.  It  was 
a  very  large  revolver  and  a  very  businesslike  one. 
Furthermore,  I  consoled  myself  with  the  thought 
that  no  harm  would  follow  with  the  map  in  Von 
Hussman's  possession;  he  would  probably  destro)f 
it  or  forward  it  to  his  government,  where  it  would 
be  buried  forever.  It  was  by  no  manner  of  means 
the  same  thing  as  if  Senor  Del  Hervalle's  fat  little 
fingers  had  got  hold  of  it.  So  I  mused  and  nursed 
the  tankard  and  thought  of  many  things,  among 
them  of  the  dead  man  lying  on  the  sand  by  the 
ghostly  boats,  and  of  Andrew  rubbing  his  bewildered 
head  because  Master  Charles  had  again  vanished  and 
that  without  eating  his  supper. 

"And  this  yacht?"  I  inquired. 

"  Why,  I  had  but  to  drop  a  wire  from  the  rail- 
way station  for  it  to  steam  up  here.  It  arrived  last 
night  and  lay  off  shore.  In  accordance  with  the 
instructions  given  in  my  telegram  Amsen  put  out 


264  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

at  daybreak  in  a  launch  and  met  me  up  near  the 
lighthouse,  whither  I  walked.  There  our  plans  to 
co-operate  were  arranged." 

"  His  then  was  the  vessel's  smoke  I  saw  this  morn- 
ing," I  said,  a  light  breaking  upon  my  mind. 

"  Yes." 

"  We  're  certainly  not  rowing  out  that  distance  in 
this  fog!" 

"  By  no  means.  Under  cover  of  the  mist  he  drew 
in  close  to  the  island.  The  yacht  is  not  over  two 
hundred  yards  off  shore  and  we  can't  be  far  away 
now." 

Indeed,  but  a  few  minutes  elapsed  before  a  vague 
shape  loomed  up,  growing  more  distinct  with  every 
pull  of  the  oars.  The  sea  was  smooth,  black,  and 
oily,  and  our  boat  rose  and  sank  as  each  swell  lifted 
it  and  let  it  slide  into  a  hollow.  At  last  we  were 
close  upon  the  craft.  It  was  a  trim  steam  yacht, 
not  large,  though  judging  by  its  lines  a  fast  sailer; 
we  came  alongside  and  maneuvered  to  catch  the 
step  let  down  for  us. 

"  I  will  take  the  tankard,"  the  Baron  said  sig- 
nificantly. "  I  can't  afford  now  to  have  it  slip  into 
the  sea."  And  it  was  his  hand  that  carried  it  up 
the  ladder. 

We  were  led  immediately  to  Captain  Amsen's 
cabin,  the  captain  lingering  a  moment  to  give  a 
few  directions  to  the  mate.  Even  as  he  joined 
us  and  we  sat  down  about  the  table  we  could 
hear  the  steam  winch  dragging  up  the  anchor  and 


WANTED  — A   FORTRESS  265 

sailors'  feet  moving  about  the  deck  in  obedience  to 
orders. 

"  It  may  interest  you,  Baron,"  I  said,  "  to  know 
that  you  've  robbed  me  not  only  of  my  map  but  of 
my  supper.  I  don't  know  which  is  worse.  But  as 
a  prisoner  of  war  I  demand  food  under  the  humane 
law  of  nations." 

"By  all  means,  you  shall  have  it.  Captain,  will 
you  kindly  have  a  steward  bring  sandwiches  and 
wine  ?  " 

These  were  forthcoming.  As  I  ate  and  Amsen 
and  Billy  smoked,  the  Baron  drew  the  dish  from 
the  tankard.  "  Very  ingeniously  contrived,"  said 
he.  Then  unscrewing  the  top  and  opening  the  bag, 
he  spread  out  the  map  upon  the  table,  fastening  its 
corners  with  pins.  Neither  Amsen  nor  Billy  made 
any  effort  to  examine  the  sheet,  nor  did  he  invite 
them  —  Germany's  fortifications  were  not  for  gen- 
eral inspection. 

Presently  a  tremor  ran  through  the  yacht,  the 
screw  was  turning.  In  some  thirty  or  forty  minutes 
Billy  and  I  should  be  cast  ashore  to  find  ourselves 
with  a  ten-mile  walk  home  ahead  of  us ;  what  little 
Esper  would  have  called  an  excellent  joke.  And 
while  we  trudged  up  the  beach  Amsen  and  the  Baron 
would  be  speeding  eastward  for  the  open  sea; 
for  that  matter,  they  could  return  with  impunity  to 
Boston  or  to  New  York  for  all  the  harm  we  could 
do  them.  Verily,  if  our  tale  were  told  it  would  be 
only  to  make  ourselves  a  laughing  stock. 


266  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

Captain  Amsen  was  a  short,  thick-set  man,  ruddy, 
bearded,  and  with  twinkling  blue  eyes.  A  glass  of 
whiskey  and  water  sat  before  him,  he  puffed  his 
pipe  methodically,  while  he  watched  me  devour  his 
food. 

"  You  look  as  if  you  had  been  in  action,  Mr. 
Woodworth,"  he  remarked  finally.  "  One  cheek  is 
covered  with  dried  blood." 

I  had  forgotten  my  appearance. 

"  Well,  I  have,  captain.  I  was  nearly  killed  by 
a  man  just  before  meeting  you  and  the  Baron  — 
your  sandwiches  are  very  good." 

Von  Hussman  lifted  his  head  smiling,  believing 
that  I  jested.  But  he  perceived  that  I  was  in 
earnest. 

"You  mean  it,  Woodworth?"  he  asked. 

"  Just  that,"  said  I.  "  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  trapped 
me  in  a  house,  kept  me  a  prisoner  all  day,  and 
I  only  escaped  after  a  knife  reached  a  man's 
heart." 

Leaning  an  elbow  upon  the  table,  he  listened. 
That  a  map  of  one  of  his  country's  forts  lay  before 
him  passed  for  the  time  out  of  his  mind.  He  bent 
his  eyes  on  me,  scrutinizing  my  smeared  face  and 
torn  attire,  then  blew  out  a  puff  of  the  cigar  he 
smoked. 

"  And  so  that  was  why  you  were  absent  all  day. 
Sefior  Del  Hervalle  appears  to  carry  Venezuelan 
methods  with  him  wherever  he  goes." 

"  There  you  're  mistaken,  Baron.    Venezuela  has 


WANTED  — A   FORTRESS  267 

nothing  to  teach  Del  Hervalle  when  it  comes  to 
villainous  tricks.  On  the  other  hand,  I  think  that 
the  Senor  has  probably  instructed  his  patron,  El 
Presidente,  in  a  few  of  the  finer  subtleties  of  in- 
trigue and  treachery." 

"  At  any  rate,  he  stimulates  my  interest  the  more 
I  learn  of  him,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  to  become  better 
acquainted  with  him  personally." 

He  touched  a  bell ;  the  steward  again  entered. 

"  Conduct  this  gentleman  to  a  cabin  and  wash 
and  mend  the  cut  on  his  head,"  he  ordered. 

Of  this  opportunity  I  took  advantage.  Dirt  and 
blood  were  removed,  and  the  steward  patched  up 
with  strips  of  plaster  the  wound  which  I  had  received 
in  breaking  the  window. 

When  I  returned,  the  Baron  was  again  deep  in 
his  study  of  the  map,  while  Billy  and  the  captain 
were  chatting  amiably.  They  were  discussing  our 
detention;  Billy  maintained  that  all  the  laws  of 
civilized  warfare  commanded  that  we  should  not  be 
set  upon  a  barren  beach  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
and  that  so  far  as  he  was  concerned  he  was  com- 
fortable and  very  well  satisfied.  Through  the  smoke 
that  rose  from  the  china  bowl  of  his  pipe  the  cap- 
tain's blue  eyes  twinkled.  Prisoners  were  not  sup- 
posed to  be  allowed  cabin  privileges;  if  we  were 
carried  until  morning  it  would  be  necessary  to  place 
us  in  irons.  He  had  some  very  stout  irons. 

At  this  point  in  their  bantering  discussion  the 
Baron  leaned  back  in  his  seat  and  remained  with 


268  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

arms  folded,  thinking;  for  my  part  I  was  more 
interested  in  what  might  be  passing  through  his 
brain  than  at  what  decision  the  debaters  might 
arrive.  Now  that  he  had  seen  the  map,  what 
thoughts  ran  through  his  mind?  Did  he  perhaps 
recall  in  the  diagram  the  very  fortification  which 
it  outlined  ?  Did  he,  now  that  all  danger  was  passed, 
pleasantly  speculate  on  what  might  have  happened 
had  the  sheet  fallen  into  England's  or  France's 
hands?  Or  did  his  mind  seek  to  guess  the  spot 
where  lay  the  treachery  or  carelessness  which  per- 
mitted such  a  betrayal  ?  It  seemed  that  he  revolved 
none  of  these  questions  in  his  mind,  that  instead  he 
had  an  ear  for  what  was  being  spoken. 

"  It 's  a  pity,  is  it  not,  captain,  that  they  must  be 
set  ashore  ?  "  he  said.  "  On  my  side,  I  am  for  com- 
pany. Time  has  been  rather  dull  for  me  of  late, 
the  days  I  've  spent  in  Lavouche ;  Mr.  Woodworth 
was  very  considerate,  but  of  course  could  not  devote 
all  his  leisure  to  a  man  who  was  seeking  to  despoil 
him.  As  for  the  woman  who  kept  the  tavern,  she 
was  busy  with  a  stocking  —  I  used  to  crack  my  jaws 
yawning.  Here  we  are,  all  four;  we  could  have  a 
very  pleasant  evening." 

"  I  vote  for  it,"  Billy  answered  promptly.  "  Better 
an  enemy  where  cheer  is,  than  a  friend  and  ten 
miles  of  beach." 

Von  Hussman  turned  to  the  captain.  "  We  '11 
run  out  a  distance  to  sea,"  said  he. 

Amsen,  who  in  the  matter  of  the  night's  arrange- 


WANTED  — A    FORTRESS  269 

ments  had  placed  himself  and  his  yacht  at  his 
friend's  disposal,  left  the  cabin  to  give  the  necessary 
orders  for  the  change.  Well,  I  meditated,  it  mat- 
tered little  now  whether  I  spent  the  night  on  land 
or  sea,  since  I  would  be  far  from  Stag  Lodge  in 
any  case.  As  Billy  had  stated,  we  were  very  com- 
fortable here ;  only  the  thought  of  Andrew  worrying 
his  old  head  disturbed  me.  I  uttered  my  reflections 
aloud. 

"  Andrew  is  a  very  good  servant,"  the  Baron  said, 
smiling.  "  He  always  brought  me  your  own  par- 
ticular cigarettes  or  cigars  when  I  called  in  your 
absence.  Not  fetching  him  with  us  was  an  over- 
sight on  my  part  —  Andrew  should  have  been  made 
a  prisoner  also.  We  will  go  back  and  get  him." 

"Go  back!" 

"  Surely ;  so  long  as  we  sail,  does  it  make  any 
difference  where?  I  '11  not  let  him  worry  his  brain 
any  longer  than  is  necessary." 

"  Baron,  I  rather  like  your  free  and  easy  style  of 
maneuvering,"  Billy  said. 

The  steward  was  called,  and  this  new  request 
transmitted  to  the  captain.  We  could  feel  the  yacht 
swinging  in  a  circle  as  the  helm  was  put  about; 
if  ever  there  was  a  curious  voyage,  this  was  the 
one.  Consider :  a  yacht  putting  back  upon  its  course 
in  order  that  the  body-servant  of  a  prisoner  which 
it  carried  might  not  worry  his  head.  The  Baron 
smoked  and  supped  his  wine.  The  map  which  he 
had  been  so  eager  to  obtain  lay  outspread  upon  the 


2;o  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

table.  It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  he  was 
in  complacent  spirits;  mine  were  the  opposite,  for 
my  eyelids  were  heavy  and  my  body  was  worn  out. 
If  the  Baron  had  made  the  proposition  to  land  us 
at  Lavouche  on  the  condition  that  we  were  not  to 
give  notice  of  his  kidnapping  for  a  specified  time, 
I  would  have  snapped  at  such  an  agreement;  for  I 
wanted  bed,  and  it  was  only  by  vigorous  pulling  at 
my  pipe  that  I  kept  my  eyes  open. 

After  a  time  Von  Hussman  said : 

"  Mr.  Woodworth,  I  shall  ask  a  favor  of  you. 
This  has  been  an  odd  affair  and  I  am  going  to  pre- 
sume so  far  as  to  beg  you  to  give  me  this  tankard 
as  a  souvenir." 

I  looked  at  the  tankard.  It  was  not  particularly 
valuable,  and  I  had  no  especial  desire  to  retain  it. 

"  Take  it,"  said  I.  "  It 's  part  of  the  loot,  and 
Captain  Amsen  may  keep  the  dish  it  held." 

The  captain,  who  had  just  entered  and  who  stood 
wiping  the  fine  fog-moisture  off  his  beard,  stated 
that  he  should  indeed  like  to  have  the  dish  as  a 
souvenir  of  his  visit  to  the  little  island  of  Lavouche ; 
he  had  been  several  times  about  the  world  in  his 
yacht,  yet  remembered  nothing  in  his  sailing  ad- 
ventures so  strange  as  what  had  now  happened. 
When  he  was  far  away,  he  would  ocpasionally  sit 
of  an  evening  and  look  at  the  dish  and  think  how  he 
had  committed  two  crimes  at  once,  one  by  robbery 
on  land  and  the  other  by  kidnapping  at  sea. 

"  And  now  what  will  our  poor  friend  Sefior  Del 


WANTED  — A   FORTRESS  271 

Hervalle  do ;  he  who  stirred  up  the  little  village  by 
the  story  that  you  were  selling  a  map  of  a  French 
fort  to  that  terrible  German  who  did  nothing  in  the 
inn?"  Von  Hussman  laughed.  "All  his  thinking 
and  scheming  to  get  the  map  has  come  to  naught. 
He  will  be  rarely  disappointed;  he  may  even  be 
offended  at  you,  Woodworth,  for  letting  it  slip." 

"  Oh,  he  '11  keep  after  me  in  any  case.  So  far  as 
he  's  concerned  the  map  is  an  incidental  matter  now 
—  of  course  he  would  like  to  have  it  —  but  it 's  my 
life  he  's  after." 

Half  an  hour  later  we  heard  the  screw  decrease 
its  revolutions  until  the  yacht  barely  kept  headway. 
iWe  had  come  once  more  to  the  island.  The  Baron 
arose  and  folding  the  map  motioned  us  to  follow 
him  on  deck,  where  we  should  wait  while  a  boat 
was  lowered  to  find  the  yacht's  relative  position.  So, 
leaning  on  the  rail,  we  watched  the  second  officer 
go  with  a  pair  of  sailors  out  into  the  fog  to  locate 
the  beach;  from  time  to  time  the  yacht  siren  let 
loose  its  bellow  to  keep  them  informed  of  our  berth. 
Overhead  the  rigging  dripped,  while  beneath  our 
feet  the  wet  deck  shone  from  the  cabin  lights  as  if 
it  had  been  oiled,  and  the  moon  diffused  as  it  had 
done  an  hour  before  its  strange  golden  light  through 
the  fog. 

All  at  once  the  Baron  turned  to  me,  smiling. 

"  My  dear  Woodworth,  this  has  been  an  acquaint- 
ance which  I  trust  will  not  cease  in  the  future.  I 
have  just  spent  a  month  in  Washington  as  a  guest 


272  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

of  the  German  Legation;  I  am  now  about  to  set 
out  on  a  short  cruise  with  Amsen,  thence  to  Berlin. 
I  shall  mail  you  my  address  so  that  in  case  you  are 
in  our  capital  you  will  give  me  opportunity  to  return 
the  favors  I  have  received  at  your  hands.  My  stay 
at  Lavouche  I  have  enjoyed  notwithstanding  my 
mind  was  not  always  at  ease  as  to  what  would  be 
the  final  disposition  of  this  map.  So  far  as  I  am 
concerned  my  solicitude  ends  when  I  return  it  to 
your  hands."  And  still  smiling,  he  presented  the 
folded  sheet  to  me. 

"  But  —  but  —  "  I  stammered. 

"  Why  do  I  do  this,  is  that  what  you  would  ask  ? 
Because,  whatever  fortress  it  is  a  map  of,  it  is  not 
one  of  Germany's.  I  am  in  a  position  to  know;  I 
was  some  time  connected  with  the  Empire's  Gen- 
eral Staff." 

I  looked  at  the  map ;  I  stared  at  him. 

"Then  what  fort  is  it?" 

"  Ah,  that  I  don't  know." 

"If  Douglass  had  only  written  the  name! "  I  ex- 
claimed in  disappointment. 

"  Yes,  it  would  have  helped.  Still  there  are  some 
things  to  be  surmised;  certain  technical  charac- 
teristics exist  in  the  methods  and  conceptions  of  each 
country,  as  one  might  say,  an  individuality.  For 
instance,  Germany  does  a  thing  one  way,  France  in 
another,  Russia  in  still  a  third.  The  difference  lies 
in  certain  features  which  the  untrained  and  unknow- 
ing eye  would  never  observe,  but  this  difference  is 


WANTED  — A    FORTRESS  273 

present  just  as  there  exists  a  fundamental  difference 
between  the  cheek  bones  of  Slavs,  Teutons,  and 
Latins." 

"  Well,  what  do  the  cheek  bones  of  this  map  tell 
you?  "  I  asked. 

"  In  the  first  place,  that  it 's  not  only  not  German 
but  not  French." 

"Well?" 

"  Nor  Russian,  nor  Austrian,  nor  English." 

I  looked  at  him.  He  still  smiled.  A  jest  seemed 
hidden  somewhere  in  his  reply. 

"  That  does  n't  leave  much." 

"  Not  much.  The  boat  is  awaiting  you.  Good- 
bye, Woodworth;  good-bye,  Lieutenant,  have  your 
government  send  you  over  as  an  attache  —  I  '11  keep 
an  eye  out  for  you."  He  shook  Billy's  hands.  "  And 
good-bye  to  you  again,  Woodworth.  I  '11  write. 
Come  over  and  visit  me." 

"  But  the  map !  "  I  expostulated.  "  Is  n't  there  a 
fortress  at  all  ?  " 

His  smile  grew  broader  than  ever. 

"  If  I  were  to  guess,"  he  answered,  "  I  'd  say  the 
cheek  bones  are  American.  Let  us  hazard  a  further 
speculation  and  say  Western  cheek  bones." 

"The  devil!" 

"  Certainly.  Perhaps  I  should  have  kept  this 
paper  in  case  we  should  ever  go  to  war  with  you, 
but  after  all  "  —  he  shook  my  hand  again  —  "I  have 
the  tankard.  I  shall  hold  it  up  betimes  and  say, 
*  This  once  held  an  American  fortress.'  " 


274  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

I  followed  Billy  down  into  the  boat.  We  put  off. 
Still  mute  with  amazement,  clutching  the  map,  ] 
gazed  back  at  the  figure  of  the  man  who  leaned  upon 
the  rail  and  waved  a  hand  after  us  and  vanished  with 
the  yacht  in  the  fog. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

LAVOUCHE   CEASES   TO   FISH 

Excitement  in  Lavouche  was  intense.  Not  since 
that  day  twenty  years  before  when  Ambrose  Velais 
had  eloped  to  Quebec  with  Melinee's  wife,  and  thence 
none  knew  where,  with  Melinee  after  them,  from 
which  pursuit  none  of  the  three  ever  returned,  had 
there  been  such  a  sensation  in  the  little  village  and 
on  the  island.  To  sell  a  French  map  to  Germany 
might  be  a  felony ;  this  was  a  far  graver  affair,  this 
killing  of  a  man.  The  narrative  ran  that  I  had 
stolen  into  the  village,  having  an  appointment  with 
the  German,  at  which  time  I  was  to  turn  over  the 
map  for  a  large  sum  of  gold;  Esper  following  me 
and  also  Descarte,  and  Pilon,  who  went  another  way 
among  the  boats.  The  stranger  and  I  had  met  on 
the  beach,  we  were  concluding  our  transaction  when 
Esper  and  Descarte  and  Pilon,  who  had  been  ap- 
pointed by  the  townsmen  to  observe  us,  to  see  that 
no  transaction  was  made,  had  run  forward  to  stop 
this  perfidious  bargaining  away  of  France's  honor. 
The  German  and  I  had  turned  about  and  fought 
them.  Esper  had  been  beaten  off  with  a  walking 
stick,  but  I  had  stabbed  Descarte  with  a  knife. 
Pilon,  who  had  been  behind  the  other,  ran  up  like 


276  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

a  hero;  Descarte,  whom  until  now  none  had  liked, 
had  died  for  his  native  country.  Such  was  the  story. 
Pilon  told  it  with  many  a  flourish  of  his  moustache. 
For  did  he  not  know  the  whole  occurrence  ?  Truly. 
Now,  if  Pilon  had  but  been  at  the  meeting  in  the 
beginning  —  he  left  it  to  be  inferred  what  would 
have  happened,  but  at  any  rate  whatever  it  was  the 
result  would  have  been  something  different.  Now 
also  look  you,  where  was  the  German  ?  He  had  set- 
tled his  bill  with  madame,  the  inn-woman,  and  was 
gone. 

The  corpse  had  lain  on  the  sands  till  daybreak, 
where  the  fishermen  coming  down  to  their  boats 
found  it.  At  first  they  had  perhaps  imagined  Pilon 
or  Esper  to  have  stabbed  Descarte  in  a  drunken  quar- 
rel of  their  own.  Such  quarrels  had  been  frequent. 
Standing  about  the  body,  these  tanned  and  sturdy 
fishermen  were  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do,  con- 
fused what  move  to  make  before  this  evidence  of  a 
murder.  Drowned  men,  men  who  lost  their  lives 
by  all  the  accidents  of  storm  and  tide,  were  common 
to  them;  the  deep  demanded  its  toll  and  they  ac- 
cepted the  fact  with  fishermen's  philosophical  remark, 
Tiens,  comme  il  faut,  but  this  was  something  dif- 
ferent. While  they  were  engaged  in  grave  specu- 
lations, came  to  them  Pilon  and  Esper.  It  was  I 
who  had  done  the  deed,  I,  Charles  Woodworth. 
Then  the  fishermen  had  looked  even  graver,  for  I  was 
another  person  from  Pilon,  whom  they  suspected. 

"  Thou  liest,"  said  Jean  vehemently  to  them. 


LAVOUCHE    CEASES   TO    FISH      277 

"  It  is  so.  Ask  this  Wood  worth,"  Pilon  ex- 
claimed. 

A  number  of  the  men  raised  the  body;  they  car- 
ried it  in  a  sail  up  the  street  to  Pilon's  house,  where 
they  laid  it  upon  the  table.  At  this  unwonted  sight 
of  their  husbands  and  fathers  returning  when  they 
should  by  this  time  have  been  well  out  of  The  Throat 
and  on  their  way  to  the  fishing  grounds,  wives  and 
children  poured  forth  from  doors.  This  happened 
while  yet  day  was  in  the  foggy  dawn.  Many  went 
down  again  to  look  at  the  place  where  the  struggle 
had  occurred;  they  pointed  to  the  disturbed  spot, 
to  dark  stains  on  the  sand;  Esper's  hat,  which  he 
had  lost  while  fleeing  from  me  and  the  German  was 
found  —  a  confirmation  of  the  tale. 

Jean  came  to  my  house  about  eight  o'clock.  He 
stood  in  grave  silence  for  a  moment  holding  his 
sou'wester  in  his  hand. 

"  Descarte  was  found  dead  among  the  boats  this 
morning,"  he  said.  "  They  say  you  killed  him." 

"  I  did  not,  Jean." 

"  Then  it  is  a  lie,  as  I  said." 

"  Listen,"  said  I ;  and  I  told  him  the  whole  story. 

Jean  silently  put  out  his  brown  hand  to  grip  mine. 
Here  was  another  who  would  stand  at  my  shoulder 
through  thick  and  thin,  who  knew  I  spoke  the  real 
happening  and  would  not  fail  me. 

"  That  Esper,  if  he  speak  not  the  truth  when  the 
time  comes,  I  will  settle  with  him,"  he  said  grimly. 

On  his  discretion  I  could  also  depend.    Until  the 


278  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

proper  minute  arrived  I  would  make  no  effort  to 
disabuse  the  village  mind  and  no  attempt  to  offer 
a  defense.  To  go  about  endeavoring  to  deny  Pilon's 
story  would  serve  only  to  weaken  my  cause;  when 
I  struck  it  must  be  hard,  a  final  blow  that  should  not 
only  clear  myself  of  the  charge  of  murder  but  es- 
tablish my  innocence  of  any  wrong-doing  so  far  as 
France  was  concerned,  and  bring  Del  Hervalle,  the 
chief  conspirator,  to  his  knees.  As  far  as  the  map 
was  concerned,  the  word  of  Billy  Harrington  would 
serve  to  vouch  for  me;  in  the  matter  of  proving 
Del  Hervalle's  complicity  and  guilt  in  seeking  to  end 
my  life,  if  I  could  not  hold  that  tricky  rascal  Esper 
to  a  straight  path  I  foresaw  dangerous  reefs  ahead. 
That  little  twisted- faced  wretch!  He  would  un- 
doubtedly tell  the  story  that  would  earn  him  the 
most  money. 

However  much  I  might  ignore  the  gossip  of  the 
villagers,  I  could  not  ignore  the  fact  that  I  would 
have  the  charge  of  murder  to  meet.  Therefore  I 
determined  to  show  that  I  was  ready.  Accompanied 
by  Jean  and  Billy,  I  set  out  for  Lavouche.  The  fog 
still  persisted,  heavier  than  it  had  been  the  previous 
night,  and  every  twig,  branch,  and  bough  dripped 
with  moisture;  grass  was  wet,  bushes  were  satur- 
ated, tree-trunks  sodden;  the  sea  flowed  in  vague 
dark  waves  and  a  little  way  out  was  lost  to  sight 
under  its  gray  pall.  The  beach  was  dismal;  the 
line  of  drift  —  sticks,  small  shells,  dead  submarine 
insects  and  molluscs,  strings  of  weed  —  which  under 


LAVOUCHE   CEASES    TO    FISH     279 

a  bright  sun  afforded  a  curious  and  colored  assort- 
ment of  sea  objects,  now  only  appeared  as  worthless, 
decayed  refuse  rejected  by  the  ocean.  Altogether 
the  morning  was  depressing. 

At  the  spot  where  I  had  fought  and  killed  Des- 
carte  there  yet  lingered  a  few  persons  held  by  mor- 
bid interest  —  two  or  three  men,  half  a  dozen 
women,  and  a  scattering  of  children.  Past  them  we 
strode  without  a  word,  as  we  passed  others  who 
stood  in  the  street  or  at  doors.  The  men  maintained 
a  serious  expression  while  speaking  to  me;  the 
women  for  the  most  part  however  stared  or  pre- 
tended not  to  observe  us,  some  plainly  turning  their 
backs.  At  the  inn  window  I  perceived  madame  in 
her  accustomed  place  knitting  her  yarn.  She  too 
beheld  us  passing,  for  she  held  up  a  finger  for  us 
to  stop.  Standing  in  the  door,  she  said: 

"  You  have  murdered  a  good  customer  of  mine, 
it  seems,"  said  she. 

Even  she  —  a  fact  which  I  had  never  suspected 
possible  —  could  be  curious. 

"  Possibly,"  said  I. 

"  Ah,  and  only  yesterday  I  was  serving  him 
brandy,  with  Pilon  and  Esper." 

"  Well,  you  '11  not  serve  him  any  more,"  said  I, 
not  pleased  at  her  apparent  cupidity.  Her  dirty- 
faced,  tousle-headed  little  scullion  was  also  looking 
at  me  around  her  skirt,  his  tongue  licking  the  corner 
of  his  mouth. 

"Ah,  Monsieur  Charles,  you  will  be  tried  and 


28o  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

perhaps  hung  like  any  other  criminal,"  she  went 
on,  while  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me  unblinking. 

"  There  is  that  possibility  also." 

"  That  is  true,  very  true.  Much  talk  also  will 
there  be  at  the  inquest.  Pilon  will  talk  and  Esper 
will  talk  and  Surcon  will  talk  and  old  Gaspard  will 
talk  —  for  he,  above  all  others,  could  not  live  and 
not  talk  on  such  a  day  —  and  monsieur  will  talk, 
and  perhaps  some  more.  We  shall  see  what  we  see 
and  hear  what  we  hear." 

"  You  speak  with  great  wisdom,  madame,  as 
ever,"  I  answered  dryly.  And  we  went  on  up  the 
street  to  the  mayor's  home. 

Surgon  was  at  home,  and  with  him  three  or  four 
of  the  elder  fishermen  with  whom  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  consulting  when  the  solution  of  an  affair 
was  not  easy.  What  was  to  be  done  with  me  was 
the  question  under  discussion ;  county  officers  would 
of  course  take  charge  of  the  affair  as  soon  as  they 
were  notified,  but  until  a  warrant  was  sworn  out 
for  my  arrest  and  the  sheriff  arrived,  what  was  to 
be  done?  Pilon  had  offered  to  make  the  formal 
charge.  But  in  the  mean  time?  Whether  I  would 
flee  or  remain,  and  if  remaining  fight,  and  if  fighting 
kill  more  men  of  Lavouche?  It  was  at  this  point 
in  the  discussion  that  we  entered  the  room  where 
they  had  convened.  Surcon  with  naive  frankness 
informed  us  what  agitated  their  minds;  now  that 
I  was  here  I  could  tell  them  which  of  the  afore- 
mentioned courses  I  should  follow.  When  there- 


LAVOUCHE   CEASES    TO    FISH     281 

fore  I  stated  that  I  intended  neither  to  run  nor 
to  fight,  he  declared  that  that  was  indeed  well;  that 
though  I  had  perhaps  committed  a  murder,  I  was 
yet  a  gentleman;  and  that  Lavouche  would  appre- 
ciate my  acquiescence  in  taking  a  sensible  course 
in  a  difficult  matter.  To  my  statement  that  I  was 
ready  for  an  investigation,  and  would  let  the  village 
conduct  an  examination  at  the  coroner's  inquest  if 
they  so  desired,  they  expressed  surprise,  considered 
the  subject  at  some  length,  and  finally  pronounced 
it  good.  The  mayor  by  virtue  of  his  office  had  the 
right,  if  indeed  he  were  not  so  compelled,  to  make 
inquiry  into  drownings,  arsons,  thefts,  assaults,  slan- 
ders, perjuries,  accidents,  births,  wrecks,  deaths  of 
all  kinds,  murders,  marriages,  sickness,  drunkenness, 
poverty,  quarrels,  village  taxes,  and  whatsoever  con- 
cerned the  welfare  of  Lavouche. 

These  and  all  things,  it  was  agreed,  came  within 
the  province  of  the  mayor  to  examine;  an  inquiry 
into  Descarte's  death  would  therefore  be  both  well 
and  wise;  while  old  Gaspard's  boat-shop,  the  largest 
room  in  the  village,  would  be  the  place  to  hold  the 
investigation.  There  all  could  be  present,  for  it  was 
good  public  policy  that  all  should  be  admitted.  And 
so,  when  I  answered  that  the  sooner  it  was  con- 
ducted the  better  it  would  suit  me,  two  o'clock  was 
decided  upon  by  the  counselors. 

As  I  and  my  two  companions  returned  down  the 
village,  we  encountered  Pilon  holding  forth  to  a 
group  of  men  and  women.  I  was  a  scoundrel  who 


282  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

should  be  hung  and  given  to  the  crows,  said  Pilon, 
who  in  the  ardor  of  his  speech  failed  to  perceive  that 
we  had  halted  upon  the  edge  of  the  little  crowd. 
For  I  had  slain  Descarte  by  a  cowardly  blow  in  the 
back  —  that  was  God's  truth.  Pilon  fiercely  stroked 
his  moustache.  Yes,  I  should  be  hung  and  the  crows 
allowed  to  pick  my  bones !  Was  that  not  so,  Esper  ? 
Esper  scratched  his  nose  and  observing  me  smiled 
his  furtive  smile.  That  might  be  possible,  remarked 
Esper,  but  also  it  might  not  be  possible  —  the  out- 
come was  yet  to  be  seen,  it  depended  somewhat  upon 
certain  matters.  Yet  it  might  not  be  inadvisable  to 
ask  monsieur  himself.  Pilon  thus  apprised  of  my 
presence  swung  about,  glaring  at  me,  and  uttered  an 
insolent  curse,  but  did  not  ask  the  question.  There 
were  three  in  our  party  while  he  had  only  Esper 
as  an  ally.  So  after  a  moment  we  passed  on 
to  the  end  of  the  street,  where  Jean  separated 
from  us. 

Stevens,  the  servant  by  whose  hand  I  had  been 
captured  on  my  first  visit  to  Moore  House,  was  the 
only  person  visible  when  Harrington  and  I  emerged 
from  the  wood  upon  the  pleasant  lawn  of  that  dwell- 
ing. Engaged  in  thought,  he  did  not  at  first  see  us, 
but  presently  touched  his  hat.  There  was  something 
behind  his  customary  deference;  I  detected  a  sup- 
pressed and  hesitating  eagerness  which  well-trained 
servants  are  generally  supposed  not  to  experience  or 
at  least  not  to  display.  Finally  he  addressed  me : 

"Begging  your   pardon,    Mr.    Woodworth,    I'd 


LAVOUCHE   CEASES    TO    FISH     283 

like  to  consult  you.  Perhaps  I  should  not  mention 
this,  sir,  but  I  know  you  are  somewhat  mixed  up 
in  the  affairs  of  Senor  Del  Hervalle.  You  '11  possi- 
bly remember  that  you  once  asked  me  to  keep  an 
eye  on  Senor  Del  Hervalle.  It  was  upon  the  night 
we  caught  you  for  a  thief  and  when  the  Senor 
recognized  you  first  shot,  but  said  he  did  n't.  Well, 
later  Miss  Elizabeth  gave  me  a  bit  of  money  also  and 
asked  me  to  let  her  know  if  Senor  Del  Hervalle  did 
anything  out  of  the  ordinary.  *  Not  usual  to  spy 
on  guests,  Stevens/  says  she,  '  but  the  Senor  is  not 
a  usual  guest,'  and  therefore,  Mr.  Woodworth,  when- 
ever my  time  was  not  occupied  I  kept  an  eye  on  both 
the  Senor  and  his  secretary.  Not  until  this  morn- 
ing did  I  notice  anything  strange.  Then  I  saw  the 
Senor  and  Mr.  Davis  go,  when  they  thought  no  one 
observed  them,  with  a  load  of  baggage  along  the 
path  that  leads  to  the  north  point  of  the  island." 

"  The  north  point !  What  were  they  doing 
there  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  That  was  exactly  what  I  wanted  to  know,  so 
I  followed  hiding  behind  bushes.  I  beheld  a  sail- 
boat drawn  up  on  the  beach  above  high-tide,  in 
which  they  placed  their  things.  It  is  an  out-of-way 
spot,  sir,  no  one  will  be  going  that  way  for  some 
time." 

"  And  what  do  you  make  of  this,  Stevens  ?  " 

A  twinkle  came  into  the  man's  eye.  "  When  lug- 
gage is  moved  to  a  boat,  sir,  it  is  generally  for  the 
purpose  of  making  a  voyage." 


284  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  So  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  and  Mr.  Davis  are  de- 
parting and  surreptitiously.  We  must  keep  watch 
—  you  did  entirely  right  in  informing  me ;  from  now 
on,  for  the  rest  of  this  day  especially,  they  must  be 
watched.  Did  you  know,  Stevens,  that  I  had  com- 
mitted a  murder  ?  " 

"You?" 

"  So  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  says.  That  is  one  of 
the  new  matters  of  difference  between  that  gentle- 
man and  me.  You  '11  hear  all  about  it  in  the  vil- 
lage this  afternoon  if  you  are  there,  and  I  want  you 
as  a  witness.  Keep  near  the  Sefior  and  do  what  I 
tell  you.  Is  that  clear?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Also  obey  anything  this  gentleman  with  me  or- 
ders —  Lieutenant  Harrington,  who  is  my  friend." 

"I'll  do  so,  Mr.  Woodworth."  Then  with  a 
grin,  "I  —  I  hope  something  will  happen.  It 's 
been  dull  since  our  tumble  here  that  night  on  the 
lawn." 

His  face  was  honest,  shrewd,  humorous,  eager; 
he  eyed  me  respectfully,  but  also  with  something 
more  than  respect,  friendliness. 

"  It 's  my  opinion,  Stevens,  that  something  will 
happen  to  fulfill  your  wish.  Keep  close  to  the 
Sefior  in  any  event." 

Billy  remained  chatting  with  him,  while  I  made 
my  way  into  the  house.  Mr.  Moore  and  Sefior  Del 
Hervalle  were  engaged,  but  the  latter,  together  with 
his  secretary,  presently  came  forth  from  the  library, 


LAVOUCHE   CEASES    TO    FISH     285 

greeting  me  politely  though  passing  on  without 
pause.  When  I  found  myself  alone  with  Mr.  Moore, 
I  went  at  my  tale  without  preface  or  preliminaries. 
I  had  drawn  him  as  far  as  possible  into  a  window 
recess,  where  I  poured  out  without  reservation  the 
history  of  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  as  I  knew  it,  from 
the  time  of  his  appearance  in  Forge  up  till  the 
present  moment.  Perfect  as  was  his  self-possession, 
it  gradually  gave  way  to  intense  interest.  At  its 
conclusion  he  said: 

"  Either  Senor  Del  Hervalle  is  the  greatest  of 
scoundrels  or  you  are  mad,  Charles." 

"  Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  Mr.  Moore,  it 's  the 
truth.  Mr.  Fenton  and  Jack  Maitland  can  and  will 
identify  him  for  D'Urville,  the  man  of  Forge  and 
an  unprincipled  villain ;  so  far  as  concerns  the  affair 
since  it  has  progressed  on  this  island,  the  proof  I 
bring  is  slender.  But  it  is  proof  nevertheless. 
Stevens,  your  own  servant,  can  testify  that  your 
guest  recognized  me  the  first  night  he  laid  eyes  on 
me  here  in  your  house ;  Betty  suspects  him ;  Andrew 
will  tell  you  how  the  envoy  attempted  to  force  him 
at  the  point  of  a  pistol  to  disclose  the  hiding  place 
of  the  map;  Harrington,  my  friend,  will  state  that 
he  heard  me  shouting  from  the  window  of  the  house 
where  I  was  kept  prisoner  in  the  village ;  more  than 
one  villager  in  fact  could  inform  you,  did  we  but 
lay  hands  on  the  right  ones,  that  Del  Hervalle  has 
entered  Pilon's  house  and  is  a  familiar  in  it.  And 
finally  Betty  it  was  who  conveyed  to  me  the  warn- 


286  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

ing  given  by  Margot,  who  is  on  friendly  terms  with" 
Senor  Del  Hervalle's  secretary." 

"  I  alone  seem  to  know  nothing  of  what  has  been 
going  on." 

"  Naturally,  Mr.  Moore.  In  your  mind  more  than 
any  one  else's  Del  Hervalle  must  keep  himself  free 
of  suspicion." 

"  It 's  certainly  a  grave  affair,  with  many  com- 
plications." 

"  He 's  an  envoy,  that 's  true,  but  is  he  not 
amenable  to  punishment  ?  " 

"  Our  government  must  proceed  delicately." 

"  Diplomacy  of  course  must  be  served  and  its 
forms  observed,"  I  said  dryly.  "  The  attempted 
murder  of  a  private  American  citizen  should  not, 
I  admit,  be  allowed  to  interfere  with  the  smooth 
workings  of  the  State  Department." 

He  colored  slightly.  "  You  do  me  an  injustice, 
Charles,  for  I  and  the  government  I  represent  would 
be  as  quick  to  act  for  the  protection  of  one  of  its 
citizens,  even  against  a  whole  foreign  power,  as  it 
would  be  for  its  own  honor.  On  the  other  hand, 
I  cannot  permit  Senor  Del  Hervalle  to  be  seized  and 
cast  a  prisoner  into  the  coal-cellar  on  the  spur  of 
the  minute.  Once  Mr.  Fenton  and  Mr.  Maitland  are 
here  to  lend  their  added  evidence  to  yours,  then  wre 
can  act,  and  even  so  there  will  be  formalities  of 
procedure." 

"  Great  heavens,  formalities !  "  I  cried.  "  Senor 
Del  Hervalle  was  not  encumbered  with  formalities 


LAVOUCHE   CEASES    TO    FISH     287 

when  he  trussed  me  up  in  the  house  yonder  in  the 
village." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  suggest?  " 

"  Exactly  what  you  mentioned.  Put  him  in  the 
coal-cellar  until  the  proper  officers  arrive." 

"  And  outrage  every  nation  in  South  America. 
Even  if  he  be  a  murderer,  the  fact  remains  that 
he 's  an  envoy,  the  representative  of  a  foreign 
country." 

"  Then  he  is  to  walk  away  unpunished  ?  " 

"  No,  I  shall  telegraph  the  particulars  to  Wash- 
ington and  request  advice  —  and  on  your  single  un- 
supported word  that  is  going  far." 

"  I  see  that  I  '11  have  to  take  the  settlement  of  his 
crimes  into  my  own  hands,"  I  answered  with 
chagrin. 

"If  —  "  he  began,  but  paused. 

"What?"  I  asked. 

"  Seiior  Del  Hervalle  might  become  a  guest  at 
your  house  for  a  week." 

His  words  made  me  stare,  then  I  caught  the 
suggestion. 

"  By  Jove !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Which  would  enable  everything  to  be  investi- 
gated and  certain  necessary  preliminaries  arranged, 
depending  of  course  upon  the  fact  that  additional 
evidence  was  produced." 

"  It  will  be  forthcoming,  it  will  be  forthcoming, 
never  fear,"  I  stated  heartily,  full  of  new  hope. 

"  But  in  the  interim  I  must  know  nothing  of 


288  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

his  visit  to  you.  This  is  purely  a  hypothetical 
conjecture." 

"  Certainly  —  hypothetical  let  it  be." 

He  put  out  his  hand,  and  I  gripped  it. 

"  It  is  incredible,  your  story,"  he  said  with  feeling. 
"  But  —  and  I  tell  you  this  in  confidence  —  I  've  not 
been  blind  to  Senor  Del  Hervalle ;  many  things  have 
passed  not  unobserved  by  me,  but  I  never  dreamt 
that  such  infamy  was  possible.  Get  your  evidence 
together,  otherwise  you  're  ruined  if  you  act  against 
him." 

"  I  'm  ruined  either  way,"  said  I  grimly,  "  if  I 
don't  finish  him  now  —  I  '11  be  ruined  and  possibly 
killed  if  he  goes  away  from  Lavouche  free.  I  'm  in 
a  narrow  strait  and  will  not  hesitate  to  go  pretty  far, 
and  now  I  have  but  one  thing  to  ask  of  you  —  insist 
that  he  be  present  at  my  trial.  It 's  my  opinion 
he  '11  want  to  attend  without  urging,  in  order  to 
hearten  up  his  villains  to  their  work.  But  should  he 
hesitate  —  insist." 

"  I  will  insist/'  said  he  with  a  smile. 

Then  I  brought  up  another  subject,  Betty.  I 
related  the  circumstances  of  our  love  for  each  other 
and  begged  his  consent,  which  he  gave  readily.  In- 
deed, he  stated  that  it  had  been  the  hope  of  my 
father  and  himself  that  our  families  might  be  united 
through  their  children.  Whatever  was  Betty's  will 
should  be  his  and  all  he  desired  was  her  happiness. 

"  But  you  're  in  the  frying-pan  at  present,  that 's 
certain,"  he  went  on,  "  with  this  murder  charge 


LAVOUCHE    CEASES    TO    FISH     289 

hanging  over  you  and  with  your  other  troubles. 
I  '11  be  on  hand  to  help  you  this  afternoon,  and  in 
the  mean  time  I  '11  send  off  some  telegrams  about 
the  affair." 

When  I  returned  to  the  lawn,  I  perceived  Billy 
in  lively  conversation  with  Betty  and  Muriel,  and 
if  his  manner  was  a  token  of  his  feelings  he  experi- 
enced no  great  regret  that  the  island  of  Lavouche 
was  inhabited  by  such  lovely  beings.  But  then,  as 
I  afterwards  had  occasion  to  learn,  the  dissatis- 
faction which  he  had  so  often  expressed  at  finding 
himself  in  feminine  society  was  to  be  accepted  with 
a  very  large  pinch  of  salt.  He  had  introduced  him- 
self to  them  as  my  guest  and  friend  and  had  already 
made  good  progress. 

"  Here  's  a  gentleman  for  you  to  take  lessons 
from,"  Muriel  exclaimed  when  I  joined  them. 
"  Fifteen  minutes  ago  we  did  not  know  each  other, 
now  we  've  arranged  for  a  sail,  a  fishing,  an  ex- 
cursion to  the  lighthouse,  and  an  exploration  in  the 
wood,  a  —  was  n't  there  something  else,  Mr. 
Harrington?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  a  clam  party,  a  dinner  at  the  inn, 
and  a  dance  at  Stag  Lodge." 

"  There,  that 's  something  like,"  said  she  with 
satisfaction.  "  Mr.  Harrington  is  a  man  of  ideas 
and  gallantry.  Now  consider,  Charles  Woodworth, 
the  little  you  've  done  to  keep  us  amused  and  the 
much  you  Ve  neglected  to  do.  With  all  the  oppor- 
tunities —  " 


290  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

I  lifted  a  protesting  hand. 

"What's  the  army  for,  if  not  to  be  the  slaves 
of  beautiful  ladies?  We  poor  civilians  have  not  the 
training  in  that  audacity  which  is  part  of  the  edu- 
cation of  the  military.  Now  I  've  heard  Billy  state, 
speaking  of  young  ladies  and  islands  —  "I  paused. 

"  Stop !  Utter  a  single  word  and  we  become 
enemies,"  he  said. 

"  I  '11  never  believe  it  anyway,"  Muriel  inter- 
jected, "  and  it  will  be  a  long  time  too  before  I 
forgive  you,  Charlie,  for  your  inattention  and  lack 
of  entertainment." 

I  bowed  with  mock  humility. 

"  Seldom  or  never  do  I  waste  my  time  in  trivial 
amusements  for  my  friends,"  I  replied.  "  It  has 
always  been  my  ambition  to  imitate  the  Caesars  and 
entertain  them  upon  a  grand  scale.  During  all  of 
this  time,  my  dear  young  lady,  I  've  been  preparing 
something  which  will  afford  you  nothing  less  than 
an  exciting  spectacle.  At  two  o'clock  this  afternoon 
in  the  village  —  " 

Betty,  who  had  been  standing  by,  half  listening, 
half  abstracted,  sprang  suddenly  forward  and  laid 
her  hand  on  my  arm. 

"  Charlie,  Charlie,  don't  speak  so,  it 's  dreadful. 
Andrew  came  and  told  me  all  early  this  morning. 
I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it ! " 

Muriel  gazed  with  large  eyes. 

"What  is  it?    What  has  happened?"  she  cried. 

Hardly  I  heard  her,  for  Betty's  blue  eyes,  alarmed, 


LAVOUCHE   CEASES    TO    FISH     291 

fearful,  held  mine  and  my  attention.  What  is  so 
sweet  in  all  the  world  as  the  concern  of  the  woman 
who  loves  you!  I  could  feel  her  hand  tremble  on 
my  sleeve. 

"  Never  fear,"  I  said  cheerily.  "  I  '11  come  out 
on  top  of  the  heap." 

"But  what  is  it?"  Muriel  repeated  in  bewilder- 
ment ;  then  turning  to  Billy,  said,  "  Mr.  Harrington, 
if  you  don't  tell  me  what  all  this  mystery  is,  I  '11 
do  something  desperate." 

Harrington  was  embarrassed;  he  looked  at  me, 
at  the  wood,  at  Muriel. 

"  Go  ahead,  Billy,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  the  entertainment  which  Woodworth  has 
prepared  for  your  delectation,"  he  explained,  "  is  a 
murder  investigation  in  which  he  figures  as  the 
murderer.  Perhaps,  Miss  Muriel,  I  on  my  part  shall 
later  succeed  in  producing  a  thriller." 

She  shot  a  lightning  flash  of  her  eyes  at  him. 
Next  it  appeared  as  if  a  shower  of  tears  would 
follow. 

"  And  I  've  talked  so  horrid  about  you  while  you 
were  in  trouble.  Oh,  forgive  me,  Mr.  Woodworth. 
Why  will  my  tongue  always  chatter !  " 

Her  penitence  was  genuine.  I  told  her  I  liked 
what  she  called  her  "  chatter,"  and  gradually  she 
was  comforted.  But  for  Billy  she  seemed  to  retain 
a  spark  of  resentment;  he  had  spoken  lightly  of  my 
trouble  and  she  would  forgive  neither  herself  nor 
him.  I  was  a  noble  man,  she  said,  to  bear  her 


292  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

gibes  when  she  rattled  on  thoughtlessly,  but  Billy 
Harrington  —  to  get  so  far  as  "  Billy  "  even  when 
uttered  in  indignation  was  proceeding  famously. 

"  Come,  it 's  a  foggy  morning.  Let 's  you,  I,  and 
the  weather  weep  together,"  Billy  said  pleasantly. 

"  You  —  you  awful  man!  "  she  gasped. 

Betty  drew  me  a  little  way  on  one  side. 

"  I  shall  come,"  she  said  firmly.  "  I  shall  come 
and  stand  up  before  them  all  and  tell  them  you  are 
innocent.  The  cowards  to  try  to  kill  you!  To  tie 
you  up  and  murder  you!  I  shudder  when  I  think 
of  it!  Andrew  informed  me  of  all  that  happened, 
and  though  I  'm  only  a  girl  I  gloried  in  you  when 
he  told  how  you  escaped  and  fought  that  terrible 
fight  on  the  sands.  Oh,  I  was  sick  at  heart  to  re- 
member that  I  went  up  the  street,  looking  every- 
where while  you  were  standing  before  the  window 
a  prisoner.  Had  I  known,  I  'd  have  torn  down  the 
walls  with  my  hands.  And  now  that  I  have  you, 
they  shall  do  you  no  further  harm ! " 

"  God  will  see  to  that,"  said  I,  and  to  the  as- 
tonishment of  the  other  two  I  drew  her  into  my  arms 
and  kissed  her.  What  cared  we  for  others,  Betty 
and  I,  since  our  hearts  were  united  ? 

"  Betty  Moore !  And  you  never  told  me ! " 
Muriel  cried,  then  ran  and  kissed  her,  which  is 
one  way  women  express  emotion. 

Billy  clasped  my  hand,  gripping  it  hard. 

"  Win  a  fight  one  day  and  the  girl  you  love  the 
next,  that 's  luck  to  the  limit,"  he  whispered. 


LAVOUCHE   CEASES   TO    FISH     293 

They  were  not  the  only  observers  of  the  little 
scene,  for  at  that  moment  Senor  Del  Hervalle 
chanced  to  stroll  out  from  the  house.  He  hurried 
forward,  both  hands  extended,  face  beaming  with 
ineffable  joy. 

"  Your  happiness  is  mine,''  he  said.  "  Youth 
and  beauty,  it  is  what  the  world  loves  to  see  —  and 
lovers!  I  give  you  a  thousand  wishes  for  a  happy 
future."  His  fingers  pressed  ours  affectionately  — 
I  saw  a  little  shudder  pass  over  Betty.  "  It  is  a  day 
to  remember ;  may  every  joy  continue  as  yours,  Miss 
Elizabeth,  forever.  My  dear  Charles,  I  can  scarcely 
express  my  delight  at  your  good  fortune,  mon  Dieu, 
no!" 

"  I  know  your  sentiments  are  sincere,"  said  I 
shortly. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  you  are  young,  strong,  wealthy,  fortu- 
nate. Your  days  will  be  long,  my  son,  and  I  shall 
think  of  you  with  great  happiness.  Would  that  I 
had  such  a  son,  would  that  I  had  had  such  a  daugh- 
ter! I  am  touched,  enchanted." 

My  emotion  at  this  splendid  exhibition  of  friend- 
ship was  too  great  for  reply.  I  could  only  gaze 
dumbly  at  those  shining  eyes,  that  benevolent  brow, 
that  round,  uplifted,  glorified  face. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

A  SHOT  IN   THE   WOOD 

At  one  o'clock  that  day  D'Urville  struck  his  last 
blow  at  my  life.  The  miscarriage  of  his  plot  of  the 
previous  night  and  the  knowledge  I  had  of  the 
character  of  this  enemy  should,  now  that  the  hour 
had  come  when  my  fate  was  to  be  decided  by  the 
village,  have  kept  me  more  than  ever  upon  my 
guard;  lulled  however  by  the  belief  that  he  would 
leave  my  affair  to  the  judgment  of  the  fishermen, 
that  he  would  confidently  think  to  swear  me  into 
guilt  by  a  chain  of  perjury,  I  relaxed  caution.  One 
o'clock  —  one  hour  until  the  assemblage  of  Lavouche 
in  old  Gaspard's  boat-shop  —  surely  I  could  feel 
myself  safe  for  that  interval!  Yet  it  would  have 
been  simple,  had  I  reasoned  the  matter,  to  know 
that  the  Frenchman  could  feel  his  situation  naught 
but  desperate.  Swear  me  into  a  murder  he  might, 
make  out  Descarte  a  hero  perhaps,  but  during  the 
process  of  investigation  might  I  not  bring  forth  a 
damaging  tale  of  D'Urville  himself  ?  I  should  have 
remembered  the  character  of  the  man,  I  have  said; 
he  was  not  the  one  to  leave  any  affair  of  his  to 
public  arbitrament;  that  were  to  leave  it  to  chance, 
and  in  such  a  matter  chance  should  be  excluded. 


A   SHOT   IN   THE   WOOD          295 

It  was  at  one  o'clock  then  that  I  was  walking 
back  and  forth  upon  the  lawn  with  Andrew.  His 
fond  hope  to  see  me  the  betrothed  of  Elizabeth  had 
at  last  been  realized ;  when  I  had  told  him  the  news, 
it  was  a  joy  to  see  the  bloom  of  happiness  that  came 
upon  his  cheek.  We  were  speaking  of  the  event. 
To  him  almost  I  would  have  spoken  my  innermost 
thoughts  as  to  a  father.  We  entered  a  little  way 
upon  the  path  where  that  morning  I  had  met  Betty. 
I  pointed  a  ringer  up  its  alley  and  turned  to  him. 
Suddenly  he  halted  abruptly  in  the  words  of  satis- 
faction which  he  uttered,  half  lifted  a  hand,  startled, 
then  with  a  loud  cry  he  flung  himself  as  a  shield 
before  my  body. 

"  The  Frenchman  —  " 

His  words  were  never  finished.  A  shot  rang 
through  the  wood,  clear,  loud,  vindictive,  and 
Andrew  caught  his  breath  with  a  sobbing  gasp. 
Whirling  about,  I  had  an  instant  vision  of  a  man's 
figure,  the  flutter  of  a  coat  skirt,  then  nothing  was 
to  be  seen.  Andrew  stood  with  his  hand  to  his 
left  breast,  blood  slipping  between  his  fingers. 

"  I  am  hit,  Master  Charles,"  he  said  with  pale  lips. 

He  began  to  sway.  Catching  his  form  in  my 
arms,  I  lowered  him  tenderly  to  the  ground.  Horror 
filled  my  mind,  horror  and  an  immense  disbelief  that 
what  happened  could  be  true.  Andrew  shot;  good, 
faithful,  innocent  Andrew,  who  had  fearlessly  flung 
himself  forward  to  protect  me!  I  took  a  few  rapid 
steps  to  pursue  the  villain  who  had  fired  this 


296  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

assassin's  shot  from  ambush;  then  the  thought  that 
my  good  friend,  my  old  companion,  was  perhaps 
losing  his  life's  blood  overwhelmed  me.  I  fell  on 
my  knees  by  his  side,  I  sought  to  staunch  the  welling 
blood  with  my  handkerchief.  Oh  that  this  faithful 
servitor  should  suffer  for  my  quarrel !  Then  a  rage 
of  murder  filled  my  heart.  Let  what  might  happen, 
I  should  kill  D'Urville,  if  it  were  with  my  last 
breath.  Beside  Andrew's  unconscious  body  under 
the  green  boughs  where  the  sunlight  played  hide 
and  seek,  and  with  the  restored  silence  all  about  us, 
I  swore  it  looking  up  to  heaven. 

Harrington  had  heard  the  shot  as  he  sat  upon 
the  veranda.  Casting  aside  his  magazine,  he  leaped 
upon  the  turf  and  raced  to  me,  shouting.  In  a  few 
swift  words  I  explained  what  had  happened;  as 
swiftly  he  opened  the  old  man's  clothes  and  made 
an  examination.  Truly  the  army  trains  men  to  cope 
with  emergencies. 

"  We  must  take  him  into  the  house  and  to  bed," 
he  said.  "  Through  the  lung  —  a  dangerous  wound. 
A  surgeon  must  be  had  at  once.  He  has  half  a 
chance." 

Into  the  Lodge  therefore  we  bore  Andrew,  with 
as  little  physical  jar  as  might  be.  My  guest  brought 
into  operation  his  knowledge  of  "  first  aid  "  to  stop 
the  hemorrhage  and  succeeded  finally  in  checking  the 
flow  of  blood.  With  each  succeeding  minute  my 
cold  rage  against  Del  Hervalle  grew,  my  passion 
to  revenge  the  wanton  crime  darkened.  Time 


A    SHOT    IN    THE   WOOD  297 

seemed  to  fly.  At  last  I  must  go  to  the  village,  for 
the  clock  was  hard  on  two,  and  with  a  last  look  at 
the  white  face,  white  now  as  the  disordered  hair 
above  it,  which  lay  upon  the  pillow,  with  a  final  grip 
of  the  hand  from  Billy,  who  remained,  I  placed 
my  hat  on  my  head  and  set  out  for  Lavouche. 
Through  the  wood  I  strode,  now  knowing  no  fear. 
Something  told  me  I  was  not  to  fall  by  a  hidden 
blow,  and  had  I  sighted  the  man  who  had  committed 
that  outrage  against  my  servant  I  would  have  throt- 
tled him  without  mercy  or  compunction.  Past  tree, 
bush,  and  vine  I  went,  yesterday  so  light  with  happi- 
ness, now  heavy  with  the  tragedy  in  which  they 
were  shrouded.  No  bird  notes  fell  in  music  through 
the  branches;  as  if  to  typify  the  mood  in  men's 
minds,  the  fog  spread  its  darkening  veil,  trees 
dripped,  and  all  was  somber. 

When  I  emerged  from  the  wood  and  walked  up 
the  hundred  yards  or  so  of  sands  to  the  village,  I 
perceived  the  shadowy  forms  of  the  boats  standing 
where  they  had  rested  since  the  previous  evening. 
What  an  age  had  passed  since  the  few  hours  back 
when  I  looked  into  the  blazing  eyes  of  Descarte 
seeking  my  life  there  among  their  inanimate  hulls! 
Like  a  hideous  nightmare  the  memory  of  that 
struggle  assailed  me.  One  instant  he  had  been  alive, 
vicious,  powerful,  strangling  the  breath  in  my 
throat,  next  he  lay  an  inert  sprawling  mass  at  which 
Esper  and  I  stared  unbelieving.  The  tide  was  now 
out.  The  Throat  displayed  its  empty  stretch  of 


298  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

sands,  here  and  there  a  nearer  pool  faintly  visible, 
the  others  hidden  in  fog;  overhead  and  unseen 
wheeled  a  few  gulls  squalling  their  raucous,  mourn- 
ful cries;  while  strong  in  my  nostrils  was  the  scent 
of  brine  and  sea.  A  sense  of  loneliness,  of  weari- 
ness, of  desolation  came  over  me.  All  the  world 
seemed  barren  and  life  a  useless  struggle,  man  some- 
how caught  in  a  mesh  of  Fate  from  which  there 
was  no  escape. 

Awaiting  me  some  distance  nearer  the  village  was 
that  good  friend  Jean.  His  face  was  sober,  but  his 
greeting  sincere,  which  was  all  that  I  cared  for, 
and  when  he  clapped  me  on  the  shoulder  while 
asking  how  I  was,  it  was  with  a  smile.  My  news 
dum founded  him. 

"  Andrew  shot !  " 

"  Through  the  lung  —  it  is  serious.  You  must 
find  some  one,  Jean,  to  go  to  the  railway  station 
with  a  message  for  a  doctor,  some  one  who  is  trust- 
worthy, who  is  intelligent  enough  to  spur  the  oper- 
ator to  instant  action  and  to  see  that  the  telegram  is 
sent." 

"  Wait  here,"  said  he,  and  hurried  away. 

While  I  bided  his  return  I  wrote  the  message  on 
a  leaf  of  my  notebook  to  a  banker  in  Bangor  with 
whom  my  father  had  formerly  conducted  certain 
business  while  spending  summers  here  on  the  island. 
Urgency  was  essential,  I  stated,  at  the  same  time 
ordering  him  to  hire  a  special  train  or  fast  tug. 
The  telegram  finished,  I  could  only  think  of  poor 


A    SHOT   IN   THE   WOOD  299 

Andrew  and  pray  that  a  surgeon  might  come 
speedily.  A  moment  later  Jean's  shape  took  form 
out  of  the  fog  and  with  it  that  of  Louis  Milan,  a 
sturdy  youth  of  quick  wit.  Him  I  bid  run  all  the 
way  to  the  railroad  station.  Could  he  do  it  ?  Louis 
laughed;  two  miles  was  nothing.  I  placed  money 
in  his  hand.  How  soon  could  he  reach  the  station? 
In  twenty-five  minutes  of  hard  running.  Then  I 
told  him  twenty  dollars  should  be  his  reward,  did 
he  do  so.  He  opened  his  eyes  wide. 

"  I  will  reach  it  in  but  twenty  minutes,"  he  cried, 
"  but  I  am  sorry  to  miss  the  investigation." 

Instantly  clutching  the  paper,  he  darted  out  across 
the  sands  of  The  Throat  and  disappeared.  That 
much  was  accomplished. 

"  And  now,  Jean  ?  "  I  said. 

"Lavouche  is  assembled  and  awaits  you.  I  told 
Surgon  the  mayor  that  you  were  come  and  desired 
a  few  minutes  to  review  in  private  the  defense  you 
would  make."  And  Jean  smiled  ironically. 

"  Is  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  in  attendance  ?  " 

"  He  is  present.  Also  Pilon,  Esper,  and  every 
living  thing  upon  the  isle  of  Lavouche,  save  you  and 
I  and  the  crows." 

"  What  of  Esper  ?  "  I  inquired  anxiously. 

"  At  noon  I  pulled  him  by  the  sleeve,  '  What  will 
thy  tale  be  ? '  I  asked.  '  The  tale  Sefior  Del  Her- 
valle invented  for  you,  or  the  truth  ? '  He  looked 
down  his  nose.  *  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  has  paid  some- 
thing, not  so  much  as  he  should,  but  something.  He 


300  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

is  a  very  hard  orange  to  squeeze.'  '  How  much, 
little  rogue?'  I  asked.  '  Peste,  only  a  little  three 
hundred.'  Then  I  said,  '  You  have  taken  blood 
money.  If  you  utter  not  the  truth  when  the  proper 
time  comes  to  speak,  I,  Jean,  will  kill  you.'  I  caught 
him  by  the  throat,  turning  up  his  chin  with  my 
thumb,  so  that  his  eyes  looked  into  mine  and  not 
down  his  nose.  '  I,  Jean,  will  slay  you  immediately.' 
But  he  did  not  say  what  he  would  speak ;  probably 
I  shall  have  to  kill  him." 

Jean  spoke  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone.  There  was 
no  doubt  in  my  mind  but  that  Esper  was  slated  for 
death  if  he  mouthed  Del  Hervalle's  invention.  Little 
Esper  as  well  as  myself,  it  seemed,  was  in  a  pre- 
dicament. On  the  one  hand  were  Del  Hervalle  and 
Pilon,  who  would  stop  at  nothing  to  revenge  them- 
selves if  he  convicted  them  of  a  conspiracy;  on  the 
other,  were  Jean  and  I,  who  if  he  did  not  would 
cut  short  his  career.  It  was  with  a  sinking  heart 
that  I  heard  Jean's  news.  The  little  villain  had  sold 
himself  for  three  hundred  dollars,  undoubtedly  rea- 
soning that  while  death  was  a  certainty  from  his 
employer  and  his  companion,  it  was  only  a  danger- 
ous probability  from  Jean  and  myself. 

"  Things  look  bad  for  me,  Jean,  unless  —  "I 
stopped. 

"Unless  what,  Charles?" 

"  I  was  going  to  say,  unless  Heaven  intercedes." 

"  What  Heaven  will  do  is  not  known,"  he  replied 
grimly.  "  I  however  am  here." 


A    SHOT   IN   THE   WOOD  301 

"  Ah,  Jean,  you  are  in  truth  a  friend  in  need." 

"  Were  we  not  the  same  as  brothers  when  we 
played  in  this  sand  ? "  He  spoke  with  a  lofty 
severity  and  moved  his  hand  in  an  embracing  ges- 
ture. "  Did  we  not  sail  together,  divide  our  bread 
between  us,  share  our  joys  and  our  sorrows? 
Wherefore  should  I  draw  away  now?  I  know  that 
you  are  innocent." 

Noble  as  I  knew  him  to  be,  this  implicit  trust, 
this  unquestioning  loyalty,  affected  me  as  nothing 
else  at  the  moment  could  have  done.  It  was  as  if 
the  sun  had  burst  through  the  clouds  and  driven 
them  away;  the  depression  which  had  rested  upon 
my  spirits  vanished  and  I  was  my  confident  self 
again.  Of  all  the  village,  save  old  Gaspard  and 
one  other  whom  I  knew  not  of  but  who  was  soon 
to  step  forth,  he  was  the  one  person  to  stand  by 
me  unswervingly. 

"  You  're  worth  a  thousand,"  I  said.  "  Come,  let 
us  proceed  with  the  business  and  get  it  over." 

It  would  be  foolish  to  say  that  I  was  not  wrought 
up  at  what  lay  before  me.  Outwardly  my  friends 
tell  me  I  appeared  calm,  but  let  any  man  stand 
where  I  stood  and  his  nerves  would  be  on  edge,  his 
mind  tense.  Fear  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  my 
conscience  was  clear;  yet  to  be  on  trial,  informal 
and  unofficial  as  it  was,  to  have  one's  honor  and 
integrity  at  stake,  to  face  an  overwhelming  fabri- 
cation of  evidence,  to  know  that  perjured  testimony 
would  convict  you,  that  your  defense  was  as  slender 


302  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

and  incredible  as  a  mirage,  that  condemnation  here 
meant  arrest  and  trial  by  constituted  authority  later 
on,  which  meant  in  turn  to  have  your  name  ring 
over  the  country  as  a  monster  of  iniquity  —  to  know 
all  this  when  at  the  same  time  knowing  your  inno- 
cence was  enough  to  set  anxiety  heavy  on  one's 
head.  Men  walk  to  the  tribunal  with  cool  pulses, 
we  read,  but  if  their  situation  be  desperate  I  doubt 
it.  And  to  my  own  worries  was  added  that  of 
Andrew.  How  did  he  fare,  I  asked  myself  over  and 
over,  did  he  yet  hold  to  life? 

As  has  already  been  stated,  old  Gaspard's  house 
was  at  the  end  of  the  street,  the  entire  lower  floor 
comprising  one  room  in  which  he  conducted  his 
business  of  making  and  mending  boats.  Since  it 
was  the  largest  room  in  the  village,  it  had  been 
chosen,  as  was  commonly  the  case  for  all  communal 
meetings,  as  the  place  in  which  to  make  the  in- 
vestigation into  Descarte's  death  and  my  alleged 
crime.  In  length  the  boat-shop  was  some  fifty  or 
sixty  feet,  in  width  half  as  much,  into  which  space 
I  perceived  upon  arriving  that  most  of  the  village 
was  packed.  With  that  practical  foresight  which 
was  a  strong  characteristic  of  the  fishermen  and 
their  spouses  they  had  brought  stools  and  chairs  on 
which  they  disposed  themselves,  leaving  an  aisle 
through  the  middle.  Those  who  had  not  been  so 
thoughtful  or  would  not  grow  weary  of  standing 
were  grouped  in  the  rear,  and  these  crowded  the 
shop  to  the  door. 


A    SHOT    IN    THE    WOOD  303 

My  heart  beat  faster  as  I  made  my  way  through 
the  group  of  men  about  the  door,  who  separated  to 
let  me  within ;  for  now  the  moment  had  come.  Some 
nodded  or  bade  me  good  day;  the  most  part  re- 
mained silent  and  curious.  The  rear  of  the  shop 
had  been  converted  by  old  Gaspard  into  a  sort  of 
judge's  rostrum;  three  boats  bottom-up  formed  the 
foundation,  while  planks  laid  upon  these  constituted 
a  rude  platform.  On  this  had  been  set  a  table  where 
Gaspard,  who  despite  his  gnarled  fingers  could  write 
a  fair  hand,  had  established  himself  with  a  pot  of 
ink,  a  quill  pen,  and  a  sheaf  of  paper.  He,  it  seemed, 
would  fulfill  the  role  of  clerk,  as  he  did  on  occasions 
of  importance.  Beside  him  sat  the  mayor,  sunburnt, 
bearded,  solid,  grave.  Indeed  the  whole  assemblage 
was  grave  —  men,  women,  and  children,  if  I  count 
not  Pilon,  who  twirled  his  moustache,  and  Esper, 
who  smiled  his  uncertain  smile.  Before  the  plat- 
form there  had  been  left  an  open  space  to  facilitate 
the  passage  of  witnesses. 

I  took  my  seat  upon  the  front  row  beside  Betty; 
her  hand  stole  into  mine  and  rested  there.  After 
a  moment  I  cast  a  look  about.  Opposite  and  in 
front  were  Pilon,  Esper,  madame  the  inn-woman 
knitting  as  ever,  her  ragamuffin  boy  at  her  side,  and 
two  or  three  of  the  staid  advisers  whom  Surgon  had 
been  accustomed  to  call  into  counsel  and  who  now 
lent  him  the  weight  of  their  presence.  With  me  were 
Betty,  Muriel,  Mr.  Moore,  Stevens,  Senor  Del  Her- 
valle,  and  his  secretary.  Jean  leaned  against  the 


3o4  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

wall  by  the  platform,  erect,  silent,  immobile,  arms 
folded. 

"  Margot  has  gone,  left  Lavouche,"  Betty  whis- 
pered. "  I  went  to  seek  her,  for  her  word  would 
be,  oh,  so  much." 

I  knit  my  brows. 

"Gone  has  she?" 

"  Jean  told  me.  But  I  am  here  —  I  will  speak." 
And  she  set  her  lips  with  determination. 

I  pressed  her  hand  softly.  Her  unsupported  word 
would  accomplish  little,  but  I  would  not  tell  her  so; 
her  love  was  great  and  that  sufficed  me. 

Behind  us  the  fisher  folk  whispered  in  low  voices, 
now  and  again  a  man's  heavy  tone  breaking  forth 
with  distinctness.  Every  detail  of  the  room  was 
photographed  by  my  momentarily  supersensitive 
vision ;  the  shavings  underfoot,  the  carpenter's  tools 
hung  on  pegs  about  the  walls,  strips  of  planking, 
boat-ribs,  poles  for  masts,  oars,  and  all  the  lumber 
of  Gaspard's  trade,  stored  on  frames  above  our 
heads.  The  clear  sweet  scent  of  new  boards  filled 
the  room;  from  far  away  there  came  the  subdued 
thunder  of  surf.  Everything  smacked  of  the  sea. 

Old  Gaspard's  little  wrinkled  face  was  screwed  in 
sorrowful  lines.  He  sharpened  his  pen,  arranged 
and  rearranged  his  ink  pot  and  paper,  but  never  to 
his  satisfaction ;  finally  he  stepped  off  the  platform 
to  come  and  shake  my  hand.  For  once  his  tongue 
was  silent,  he  opened  his  lips  only  to  shut  them  to- 
gether again,  then  turned,  climbed  upon  the  boards, 


A    SHOT   IN    THE   WOOD  305 

and  resumed  his  seat.  He  and  Surgon  held  a  low 
consultation,  the  upshot  of  which  was  that  two 
additional  chairs  were  placed  beside  the  table,  one 
for  use  by  successive  witnesses  and  one  for  Mr. 
Moore,  who  was  invited  to  lend  the  mayor  his  advice. 
Murmured  expressions  about  the  room  approved 
this ;  Mr.  Moore  was  wise  in  the  ways  of  investiga- 
tions, he  was  an  official  of  the  government.  What 
could  be  better?  For  there  would  be  much  to  talk 
about  and  much  to  investigate  and  many  to  interro- 
gate. Two  heads  would  be  better  than  one,  mean- 
ing no  disrespect  to  Surgon's  head. 

Presently  I  discovered  a  little  by-play  that  at  any 
other  time  would  have  been  entertaining  but  now 
was  dramatic.  Glancing  at  Jean,  I  perceived  he 
gazed  steadily  across  the  room.  In  the  position 
which  he  occupied  he  was  a  lone  and  commanding 
figure;  thus  might  have  stood  a  young  gladiator 
against  a  Coliseum  wall  awaiting  his  turn  to  enter 
the  arena.  Following  his  unchanging  look,  I  saw 
that  it  rested  upon  Esper;  the  little  fellow  sat  with 
Pilon  on  one  side  and  the  knitting  inn-woman  on 
the  other.  That  he  was  well  aware  of  the  stern  eyes 
bent  upon  him  was  evident  from  the  furtive  glances 
which  he  shot  back  at  Jean;  that  he  was  uncom- 
fortable beneath  the  look  I  could  only  guess  —  first 
he  would  look  awhile  down  his  nose,  smiling  craftily, 
then  steal  a  glimpse  at  the  fisherman  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye ;  and  so  the  interchange  continued. 
Why  Jean  had  selected  his  present  position  was 


306  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

apparent  only  to  Esper  and  me  —  it  was  one  of 
menace. 

All  at  once  another  person  entered  into  the  mute 
play.  The  inn-woman  stopped  in  her  knitting, 
plucked  Esper  by  the  elbow,  and  drew  him  nearer. 
A  few  words  were  whispered  in  his  ear;  he  turned 
his  head  about,  perking  at  her  for  all  the  world  like 
a  bird ;  again  she  whispered,  afterwards  nodding  at 
him  with  compressed,  significant  lips.  The  little 
man's  look  wandered  up  and  about  the  ceiling  while 
his  smile  flickered  absently.  Whatever  she  had  said, 
it  had  caused  cogitation  in  his  brain.  Finally  she 
released  his  sleeve,  resumed  her  needles,  and  he 
scratched  his  nose  a  longer  time  than  usual. 

Del  Hervalle  chatted  complacently  with  Muriel, 
and  as  I  watched  him  the  black  anger  again  welled 
in  my  heart.  He  was  the  wretch  who  had  sought 
to  kill  me,  to  cause  my  death  while  suspicion  hung 
over  my  head,  to  send  me  into  a  grave  with  a  dis- 
honored name.  His  time  would  come,  I  said  to  my- 
self, when  he  should  suffer  for  his  crimes,  else  the 
whole  world  was  out  of  joint  and  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  justice. 

At  that  minute  Surgon  rapped  with  his  knuckles 
on  the  table.  The  investigation  was  open. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

LA  VOUCH  E   INVESTIGATES 

Surgon  the  fisherman  wore  the  rough  shirt  com- 
mon to  the  coast;  Surgon  the  mayor  wore  an  un- 
comfortable white-bosomed  one  and  a  low  collar. 
Rapping  upon  the  table,  he  commanded  silence  and 
made  a  statement.  Since  the  map  was  the  beginning 
of  the  trouble  which  had  befallen  their  peaceful 
island  and  interrupted  the  orderly  pursuit  of  their 
fishing  industry,  and  since  it  was  alleged  that 
Descarte  had  been  slain  in  an  effort  to  prevent  me 
from  selling  the  same  to  the  German  stranger  who 
had  disappeared,  it  was  necessary  to  examine  into 
the  affair  of  the  map  in  order  to  get  a  proper  under- 
standing of  the  cause  of  Descarte's  death.  On  the 
suggestion  therefore  of  Monsieur  the  Honorable 
Alexander  Moore,  who  had  consented  to  assist  him 
and  who  now  sat  by  his  elbow  as  all  could  see,  he 
would  proceed  with  an  investigation  upon  this  sub- 
ject. Would  Charles  Wood  worth  ascend  the  plat- 
form ?  I  did  so,  seating  myself  upon  the  chair  pro- 
vided for  witnesses,  while  the  assemblage  gazed  at 
me,  silent,  eager,  expectant. 

"  You  have  or  had  in  your  possession  a  map  of 


3o8  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

a  fortification,  Monsieur  Woodworth  ?  "  the  mayor 
interrupted. 

"  It  is  true/'  said  I. 

"  Inscribe  that,  clerk."  Old  Gaspard's  quill  began 
to  scratch  on  the  sheaf  of  paper.  "  Where  did  you 
secure  this  map,  monsieur  ?  " 

I  considered.  If  a  detailed  investigation  were  to 
be  made  concerning  this  document,  many  questions 
would  have  to  be  asked  and  probably  a  good  part 
of  the  afternoon  be  consumed  before  arriving  at 
the  matter  of  Descarte's  death. 

"  Monsieur  the  Mayor,  if  you  will  permit  I  will 
tell  the  whole  story  of  the  map,"  said  I.  "  Then  if 
any  points  are  not  clear  you  can  inquire  as  to  them. 
It  will  save  time  and  facilitate  the  interrogation. 
I  offer  this  as  a  suggestion." 

Surgon  listened  politely,  revolved  the  proposal  in 
his  mind,  finally  held  a  whispered  consultation  with 
Mr.  Moore.  Arms  folded,  I  waited  patiently,  for  I 
knew  Lavouche  and  was  well  aware  that  its  people 
were  not  to  be  hurried  when  engaged  in  considera- 
tion of  a  grave  matter.  The  more  grave  (they 
would  have  said)  the  more  reason  for  long  consid- 
eration. Out  of  the  tail  of  my  eye  I  observed  Senor 
Del  Hervalle.  What  I  might  say  would  concern  him 
mightily ;  yet  he  was  complacent,  apparently  a  mere 
spectator,  a  casual  visitor  at  an  interesting  event. 
Beyond  him  were  the  rows  of  villagers;  the  gray 
heads  and  their  withered  wives  nearest,  behind  them 
the  strong  middle-aged  folk,  in  the  rear  the  younger 


LAVOUCHE   INVESTIGATES         309 

married  couples,  then  youths,  maidens,  children,  and 
finally  filling  the  door  those  men  who  were  content 
to  stand.  A  rustle  of  satisfaction  breezed  the  little 
audience  when  Surgon  announced  that  my  sugges- 
tion would  be  adopted;  it  had  merit,  only  I  was 
asked  to  speak  not  too  rapidly  that  the  clerk  might 
note  important  points. 

Thus  I  began: 

"  Two  years  ago  this  summer  I  was  spending  some 
time  with  friends  in  a  Western  State.  Those  friends 
were  owners,  one  the  manager,  of  a  mine.  As  it 
happened,  there  were  in  the  employ  of  this  mine 
an  assistant  engineer  and  a  mechanic,  the  former  a 
Scotchman  and  the  latter  a  Frenchman  by  the  name 
of  D'Urville.  These  two  men  were  great  scoun- 
drels, never  were  there  greater ;  what  the  Scotchman 
did  not  think  of,  the  Frenchman  did.  They  stole 
considerable  gold  and  murdered  several  men,  besides 
doing  many  other  evil  things  which  it  is  not  neces- 
sary for  me  to  relate.  Suffice  it  that  their  acts  were 
villainous.  In  the  end  the  Scotchman  was  shot  in 
a  fight  with  the  manager,  but  the  Frenchman  escaped 
with  some  of  the  gold.  Among  the  effects  of  the 
Scotchman  there  were  a  sword,  this  map  in  ques- 
tion, and  numerous  other  articles.  The  Scot  had 
been  a  renegade  English  army  officer,  a  scamp  who 
had  lived  all  over  the  world  by  his  wits  and  a  brag- 
gart like  Pilon,  though  not  such  a  coward,  and  he 
was  a  gentleman."  A  subdued  chuckle  greeted  this 
sally;  Pilon's  neighbors  nudged  his  ribs,  for  the 


3io  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

fishermen  loved  a  jest.  As  for  the  fellow  himself 
he  stroked  his  moustache  fiercely.  "  The  assistant 
engineer  had,  as  I  thought,  stolen  into  a  German 
fortress  and  drawn  the  map  to  sell  to  another 
country.  The  notes  were  in  German,  therefore  it 
must  be  a  German  map.  When  we  came  to  depart 
from  the  mine,  my  friend  the  manager  took  the 
sword  and  gave  me  the  map  as  a  memento.  Once 
arrived  in  New  York  I  locked  it  away  and  forgot 
it  utterly." 

"  Then  your  friends  saw  the  map  ?  Monsieur, 
kindly  give  Gaspard  their  names  that  he  may  enter 
them  in  the  account." 

I  did  so,  together  with  their  residences. 

"  Proceed,  Monsieur  Woodworth." 

"  The  past  two  years  I  spent  in  Texas.  A  short 
time  ago  I  returned  to  New  York  by  steamer  and 
had  the  map  recalled  to  mind  by  a  newspaper  item 
which  my  friend,  Lieutenant  William  Harrington, 
read.  I  mentioned  that  I  possessed  a  map  of  a  fort ; 
he  was  coming  to  visit  me  here  and  as  he  's  an  army 
officer,  he  begged  me  to  bring  it  with  me  so  that 
he  could  examine  it.  Is  it  likely,  good  people  of 
Lavouche  "  —  I  sat  forward  and  spread  my  hand 
in  a  questioning  gesture  —  "  is  it  likely  that  I  was 
trying  to  betray  my  country  when  the  army  of  the 
United  States  knew  of  the  existence  of  the  map,  the 
army  in  the  person  of  Lieutenant  Harrington?" 

My  audience  was  impressed.  They  looked  at  one 
another  with  lifted  brows.  The  old  men  blinked, 


LAVOUCHE    INVESTIGATES         311 

considered,  weighed  the  statement.  Meanwhile 
Gaspard's  pen  scratched  busily. 

"  But  the  German,  that  does  not  appear  at  all 
clear,"  Surgon  said  judicially. 

"  It  is  simple,  Monsieur  the  Mayor.  As  I  rode 
hither  on  the  train,  I  sat  with  the  map  outspread 
upon  my  knees.  This  stranger  passing  in  the  aisle 
observed  it.  He  stopped;  he  being  also  an  army 
man  saw  that  it  was  a  map  of  a  fortress  and  that 
there  was  writing  in  his  own  language.  He  de- 
manded to  see  it,  which  I  refused.  That  night  he 
attempted  to  steal  it  from  me  on  the  train,  but  was 
unsuccessful,  and  he  followed  me.  Just  north  of 
the  rock  of  La  Dent  he  made  an  attack  upon  my 
person  and  I  knocked  him  down  with  a  stiff  punch 
of  the  fist.  Then  he  remained  in  the  village  waiting 
a  further  chance  to  obtain  it." 

"  But  you  were  friendly.  Even  he  has  eaten  at 
your  table." 

"  Yes,  we  were  friendly  as  two  dogs  who  watch 
to  have  the  same  bone,  not  barking  but  with  teeth 
ready  to  bite.  It  amused  me  to  invite  him  to  dinner, 
knowing  all  the  while  that  he  wanted  to  rob  me. 
It  was  the  same  as  when  Antoine  and  Pierre,  burning 
to  maul  one  another  for  love  of  the  same  maiden, 
yet  greet  each  other  with  exceeding  politeness." 

A  shout  of  laughter  greeted  my  explanation. 
Heads  turned  towards  the  two  striplings,  who  sat 
with  downcast  eyes,  blushing,  for  the  rivalry  of  the 
pair  was  a  great  joke  in  Lavouche. 


3I2  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

"  There  was  a  third  party  to  this  affair  of  the 
map,"  I  went  on.  "  By  accident  Sefior  Del  Her- 
valle  discovered  that  I  was  in  possession  of  the 
paper.  The  Senor  is  a  diplomat,  also  a  patriot  of 
his  country  who  desires  to  protect  his  government." 
I  spoke  with  irony.  "  He  did  me  the  honor  to  call 
one  day  at  Stag  Lodge  during  my  absence  in  order 
to  persuade  my  servant  Andrew  to  give  him  the 
paper.  What  Venezuela  would  do  with  a  map  of  a 
German  fortress  I  do  not  know.  The  ways  of  great 
countries  and  of  their  honorable  representatives  are 
not  for  us  simple  people  to  understand.  At  any 
rate  he  desired  to  obtain  possession  of  the  chart. 
When  he  failed  in  this,  he  sought  out  Pilon  to  help 
him,  and  Pilon  spread  a  report  that  it  was  a 
French  map  which  I  was  endeavoring  to  sell  to 
Germany.  Thus  the  Senor  thought  perhaps  to 
frighten  me  into  giving  it  to  him  —  that  is  no  doubt 
diplomacy.  It  was  because  of  this  tale  Monsieur 
the  Mayor  and  the  committee  called  upon  me  and 
afterwards  set  a  watch  upon  my  movements  as  well 
as  upon  those  of  the  German.  When  the  latter 
stated  to  the  committee  who  visited  my  house  that 
he  was  here  in  Lavouche  on  account  of  the  map,  he 
spoke  truly,  but  not,  I  regret  to  state,  with  the  mean- 
ing the  committee  understood.  It  was  not  to  buy, 
but  to  steal  the  map." 

When  I  paused  in  my  declaration,  there  was  a 
look  of  wonder  upon  the  people.  Many  eyes  were 
directed  at  Senor  Del  Hervalle,  who  sat  unper- 


LAVOUCHE    INVESTIGATES         313 

turbed ;  many  were  focused  on  me.  Their  curiosity 
was  being  fed  to  the  utmost;  it  was  a  wonderful 
day. 

"  Do  you  desire  to  enter  the  names  of  the  com- 
mittee, Monsieur  the  Mayor?"  Gaspard  inquired 
politely. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  Nothing  must  be  omitted  which 
may  be  important.  Truly,  there  must  not.  Does 
Monsieur  Woodworth  know  the  name  of  the 
stranger  ?  " 

"  Baron  von  Hussman,"  I  informed  him. 

"  That  too  must  be  entered.  According  to  the 
report  the  map  was  sold  to  the  German  last  night 
and  he  has  departed  with  it.  At  least  he  has  gone 
from  the  village.  What  have  you  to  say  of  that, 
monsieur  ?  " 

"  By  whom  is  it  declared  that  the  map  was  sold  ?  " 

"  Pilon." 

From  his  seat  the  fellow  spoke  up. 

"  That  is  true.  The  German  has  gone,  the  map 
has  gone  with  him.  France  is  betrayed;  it  is 
enough."  And  he  leaned  back,  giving  a  satisfied 
upward  twirl  to  his  moustache. 

"  Pilon  is  a  wise  man,"  said  I  scornfully.  "  Per- 
haps he  can  tell  how  the  German  departed."  On 
this  point  however  he  had  nothing  to  say.  "  In  order 
that  everything  may  be  clear,  I  will  tell  you.  Last 
night  about  ten  o'clock  my  guest,  Lieutenant  Har- 
rington, who  arrived  in  the  evening,  and  I  were 
surprised  at  my  house  by  this  stranger  and  a  com- 


3i4  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

panion  of  his.  They  compelled  us  to  go  with  them 
on  board  a  vessel  which  they  had  anchored  close  to 
the  island  under  cover  of  the  fog.  It  was  their 
intention  to  land  us  upon  the  beach  ten  miles  below 
in  order  to  enable  them  to  make  a  good  start  with 
the  map  before  warning  of  their  crime  could  be 
given.  But  while  making  an  examination  of  the 
map  the  German  discovered  that  it  was  not  one  of 
a  fortress  of  his  country  at  all,  but  of  an  American 
one.  So  my  friend  and  I  were  returned  to  Lavouche, 
whereupon  the  yacht  sailed  away.  As  you  know, 
there  is  no  name  upon  the  map.  I  had  supposed  it 
German  because  of  the  writing.  The  Baron,  who 
is  a  gentleman  and  officer  high  in  the  councils  of  his 
country  and  who  is  a  student  of  fortresses  the  world 
over,  perceived  from  certain  technical  features  that 
it  was  American.  He  may  have  known  the  exact 
fort,  but  he  did  not  say  so." 

"  Then  you  have  the  map  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  here  it  is."  I  drew  it  forth  from  my 
pocket  and  opened  it  to  the  gaze  of  all. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Turn  it  over  to  the  authorities  at  Washington, 
to  be  sure." 

Surgon  meditated.    He  consulted  with  Mr.  Moore. 

"  Will  you  swear  that  you  have  no  intention  of 
selling  it?  And  will  you  deliver  it  to  Mr.  Moore 
to  be  given  to  the  President?  " 

'  To  the  first  question,  I  will  answer  yes ;  to  the 
second  I  can  only  answer  in  the  affirmative  on  the 


LAVOUCHE   INVESTIGATES         315 

condition  that  Lieutenant  Harrington  consents.  I 
promised  to  give  it  to  my  friend  to  carry  to  Wash- 
ington, for  it  would  perhaps  enable  him  to  win 
promotion." 

"Ah,  where  is  he?"  the  mayor  inquired. 

"  Both  he  and  Andrew  are  detained  at  Stag 
Lodge." 

At  this  moment  Pilon  rose  to  his  feet,  asking  per- 
mission to  speak.  When  it  was  granted,  he  cast  an 
insolent  look  at  me  and  said  that  it  was  a  very 
cunning  tale  that  I  had  woven  to  hoodwink  the 
villagers,  but  that  he  would  put  a  finger  through  it 
in  as  many  places  as  in  a  fish  net.  Where  I  had  got 
the  map,  he  did  not  care,  but  my  whole  account  was 
an  unlikely  story.  The  German  had  been  here,  that 
was  certain,  every  one  had  seen  him,  and  what  he 
wanted  to  know,  did  men  sit  down  to  eat  together 
and  smoke  each  other's  tobacco  and  laugh  at  jests 
if  they  were  fighting  for  the  same  thing?  No,  mon 
Dieu!  They  fought  with  hands  and  knives  if  they 
were  in  earnest.  The  committee  had  seen  the  map 
and  heard  the  German  say  that  his  business  at  La- 
vouche  concerned  it.  Let  them  remember  that  morn- 
ing. Had  the  German  and  I  acted  as  enemies  act? 
Name  of  a  dog,  we  were  almost  brothers.  For  that 
reason  Monsieur  the  Mayor  and  the  other  worthy 
men  with  whom  he  consulted  had  set  Esper  and  poor 
dead  Descarte  to  watch  us.  As  for  the  slander  that 
the  honorable  gentleman  who  was  a  guest  at  Moore 
House  had  tried  to  steal  the  paper,  that  was  a  lie. 


3i6  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  Where  is  your  servant,  Andrew  ?  "  the  mayor 
interrupted,  turning  to  me.  "  His  evidence  is 
necessary." 

"  As  I  've  already  stated,  he  can't  be  present,"  I 
answered  shortly. 

"  And  for  a  very  good  reason,"  Pilon  continued, 
since  he  was  probably  hand  in  glove  with  his 
master  but  was  afraid  to  appear  here  before  La- 
vouche;  same  with  the  fellow  who  I  said  was  a 
lieutenant.  Where  also  was  he?  Perhaps  he  had 
come  to  the  island,  but  if  so  it  was  because  he  was 
also  a  rascal  like  myself  and  was  to  get  some  of  the 
money  for  the  map.  The  German  was  gone,  but  he 
could  return  for  the  paper,  as  no  doubt  he  had 
arranged  to  do.  Sacre,  it  was  an  evil  business  to 
betray  France  thus!  He  and  Esper  and  Descarte 
had  worked  to  stop  it  —  and  Descarte  had  died  be- 
cause of  it.  I  had  told  a  fine  story,  but  there  was 
no  one  to  prove  it.  Naturally  I  would  tell  a  fine 
falsehood,  naturally  I  would  swear  a  lie  in  order  to 
save  my  neck. 

With  a  flourish  of  his  hands  he  sat  down,  turning 
with  an  air  of  satisfaction  to  look  over  the  audience. 
That  it  was  warranted  was  only  too  evident;  men 
nodded  approval  and  women  whispered  together 
while  glancing  my  way.  Truly,  my  story  was  un- 
supported and  my  witnesses  absent;  probably,  as 
Pilon  said,  it  was  a  lie ;  for  had  I  not  been  friendly 
with  the  German,  who  was  an  enemy  of  France? 
Were  enemies  in  truth  ever  friendly  ?  There  was  no 


LAVOUCHE   INVESTIGATES         317 

one  to  say  that  the  map  was  American,  no  one  be- 
sides myself.  It  was  very  strange  an  American  map 
should  have  been  written  in  German,  but  not  at  all 
strange  that  a  French  map  made  to  sell  across  the 
Rhine  should  be  so  written.  A  buzz  went  through- 
out the  room,  and  now  and  again  I  could  catch  a 
word  to  show  me  their  thoughts.  The  slightly  favor- 
able impression  which  I  had  won  by  my  account  had 
been  rapidly  dispelled  by  Pilon,  to  leave  in  its  stead 
one  distinctly  inimical  to  my  interests. 

I  gazed  at  Betty.  Her  lips  were  firmly  set,  her 
eyes  blazed  scorn.  When  her  look  met  mine,  she 
smiled  a  smile  of  steadfast  trust.  As  for  the  others 
they  displayed  various  feelings:  Muriel  sat  with 
lips  parted,  staring  straight  ahead  of  her,  wonder 
upon  her  face,  wonder  that  a  drama  had  been  played 
upon  the  island  almost  before  her  sight  and  she  had 
seen  it  not;  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  was  complacent, 
almost  indifferent;  Davis,  the  secretary,  sat  immo- 
bile, only  his  eyes  betokening  eagerness  of  attention ; 
rubbing  elbows  with  him  was  Stevens,  the  man  of 
Moore  House,  who  remained  stolid  and  unblinking. 
Jean  leaned  against  the  wall  eying  Esper,  and  Esper 
smiled  down  his  nose,  while  Pilon,  now  that  he  had 
shot  a  first  arrow,  sat  back  enjoying  his  triumph, 
and  the  inn-woman  knitted  on  as  if  alone. 

"  Monsieur  Woodworth,  with  your  permission  I 
will  look  over  the  notes  to  see  that  no  points  have 
been  omitted,"  Surgon  said. 

"  Certainly,"  said  L 


3i8  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

As  I  have  already  stated  numberless  times,  what 
Senor  Del  Hervalle  next  would  do  was  always  the 
unexpected.  Possibly  he  perceived  that  I  was  bound 
to  link  his  name  with  my  defense,  it  was  inevitable, 
possibly  he  only  thought  to  disarm  any  statement 
which  I  should  make  concerning  him.  He  rose  all 
at  once,  bowed  to  the  mayor,  to  myself,  and  to  the 
people,  and  begged  the  favor  of  a  few  words. 

I  had  mentioned  his  name,  he  stated  thoughtfully, 
and  while  he  was  a  disinterested  spectator  and  an 
envoy  from  another  country,  a  mere  visitor  to 
America  under  the  protection  extended  to  foreign 
officials  by  the  United  States,  yet  he  did  not  wish 
any  shadow  of  misconduct  to  rest  upon  his  name. 
That  he  had  discovered  by  accident  that  I  possessed 
a  map  of  one  of  France's  fortresses  was  true ;  how 
or  where  I  had  obtained  it  was  a  marvel  which  only 
I  could  explain.  While  Venezuela  was  his  adopted 
country,  yet  his  heart  was  with  mother  France.  He 
had  called  upon  me  to  persuade  me  to  return  the  map 
to  Paris  and  save  the  honor  of  the  French  people, 
had  talked  with  my  servant,  talked  with  me,  but 
found  me  obstinate.  Of  the  German  he  knew  noth- 
ing, save  that  he  had  been  present  upon  the  island. 
When  I  first  met  him,  Senor  Del  Hervalle,  I  had 
apparently  mistaken  him  for  some  other  person,  but 
that  he  had  never  beheld  me  before  coming  to 
Lavouche  was  a  fact,  because  he  had  been  in 
Venezuela  for  five  years,  as  Mr.  Moore,  his  host, 
could  testify.  He  had  often  talked  with  me,  attempt- 


LAVOUCHE   INVESTIGATES         319 

ing  to  disabuse  my  mind  of  my  error  of  mistaken 
identity,  but  it  had  persisted.  Not  only  had  it  per- 
sisted, it  had  increased.  I  associated  him  with 
strange  happenings  in  a  district  somewhere  far  west, 
of  which  he  had  never  heard.  My  stories  were 
strange  and  violent.  He  had  liked  me,  Charles.  I 
was  strong  and  handsome.  But  —  he  paused,  look- 
ing at  the  floor,  while  his  fat  little  face  grew  sad 
—  but  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  after  much 
observation  that  I  was  the  victim  of  an  hallucination 
in  which  I  conceived  many  strange  impossible  things. 
Because  of  this  perhaps  there  had  risen  the  confusion 
of  the  map  and  the  killing  of  the  man;  his  regret 
and  sorrow  were  profound,  his  mouth  would  never 
have  opened  to  speak  these  words  were  it  not  neces- 
sary for  the  defense  of  his  own  honor  as  an  am- 
bassador of  Venezuela  and  because  of  his  love  for 
France.  Ah,  his  love  for  la  belle  France  was  un- 
dying. And  I,  what  I  said  must  be  considered  with 
respect  to  the  circumstances  —  I  appeared,  God  help 
me,  to  have  just  a  touch  of  madness.  And  spreading 
his  coat  tails  he  sat  down,  folded  his  fat  little  arms, 
and  rested  his  chin  upon  his  breast  in  compassion. 

Betty  stared  at  him  with  horrified  eyes;  her 
father  scrutinized  his  own  pink  finger-nails  care- 
fully. The  fisher  folk  sat  silent  with  open  mouths. 

"  The  honorable  envoy's  distinguished  regrets 
should  be  recorded,"  said  I  dryly.  "  Lavouche  will 
have  something  to  treasure."  And  I  saw  a  ghost 
of  a  smile  on  Mr.  Moore's  lips. 


32o  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

"  That  is  true.  Enter  that  the  gentleman  believes 
Monsieur  Woodworth  mad,"  Surgon  ordered. 

Sefior  Del  Hervalle  lifted  a  gentle  protesting 
hand,  but  ventured  no  further  speech. 

"  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  we  have  not  the 
presence  of  your  friend  the  lieutenant  and  of  your 
servant  to  complete  the  testimony  concerning  the 
map,"  the  mayor  continued,  consulting  the  papers 
before  him.  "  Is  there  good  reason  for  their 
absence  ?  " 

"  Very." 

"  Possibly  you  would  wish  to  enter  the  reason  in 
the  record.  All  should  be  complete  and  in  order, 
thus  we  can  form  a  correct  opinion." 

"  As  you  like,"  said  I. 

But  the  mayor  turned  to  the  boat-maker. 

"  Take  a  fresh  sheet,  Clerk  Gaspard.  Now,  Mon- 
sieur Woodworth,  we  are  ready." 

I  looked  over  the  audience  and  out  of  the  door, 
with  my  thoughts  flashing  across  the  island  to  my 
old  servant,  my  friend  and  companion,  who  lay 
senseless  and  wounded  sorely. 

"  At  one  o'clock  this  afternoon  Andrew  and  I 
stood  in  the  wood  behind  my  house,"  I  said  quietly. 
"  We  were  talking  together  when  suddenly  he  flung 
himself  before  me  with  a  cry  of  warning.  A  shot 
sounded ;  the  ball  struck  him.  He  lies  at  the  point 
of  death  in  Stag  Lodge,  attended  by  Lieutenant  Har- 
rington. He  may  now  be  dead.  If  so,  he  gave  his 
life  to  save  mine  from  enemies  who  are  too  cowardly 


LAVOUCHE   INVESTIGATES        321 

to  fight  in  the  open.  Is  that  sufficient  reason  for  his 
absence,  Monsieur  the  Mayor?" 

This  was  news  indeed.  The  whole  assembly,  save 
Senor  Del  Hervalle,  opened  their  eyes  at  this  in- 
formation. Betty  uttered  a  low  cry,  Pilon  ceased 
to  twist  his  moustache  and  remained  with  it  between 
finger  and  thumb  while  he  stared,  madame  the  inn- 
keeper's needles  halted.  Then  a  murmur  swept  the 
room  of  the  boat-shop,  a  low  utterance  of  astonish- 
ment. Andrew  shot  from  ambush,  perhaps  dead! 
Sensation  was  in  truth  piling  on  top  of  sensation. 

"  It  is  an  excellent  reason,"  the  mayor  stated 
gravely.  "  You  are  excused,  monsieur,  and  I  offer 
you  in  this  particular  the  sympathy  of  the  whole 
village." 

As  I  descended  to  my  seat,  a  buzz  of  wonder  and 
conjecture  awoke  in  the  room.  The  map  was  for- 
gotten; all  minds  were  stuffed  with  this  fresh 
happening. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE  TALE   THAT    PILON   TOLD 

At  about  three  o'clock  Pilon  was  called  to  the 
stand  to  give  his  account  of  my  alleged  crime. 
While  an  examination  into  the  subject  of  the  map 
was  essential,  this  was  the  main  purpose  of  the 
investigation.  There  was  a  shifting  closer  of  seats, 
a  settling  of  bodies,  a  craning  of  heads,  a  breath  of 
suppressed  excitement.  Old  Gaspard  whittled  his 
quill  pen  anew  for  larger  writing.  Pilon,  full  of 
confidence,  swelling  with  importance  now  that  he 
was  the  center  of  observation,  pulled  the  witness 
chair  a  little  way  about  on  the  platform,  cocked 
his  head  on  one  side  and  gazed  up  at  the  ceiling, 
awaiting  the  pleasure  of  the  mayor. 

Surgon  announced  that  Descarte  was  dead ;  there 
could  be  no  doubt  on  that  point,  for  he  lay  in  the 
lower  room  of  Pilon's  house,  where  he  had  been 
viewed  by  many.  Yes,  it  was  certain  that  he  was 
dead.  Of  the  instrument  of  his  death  there  also 
was  no  question,  since  the  knife  which  had  slain 
him  still  remained  in  his  back.  It  was  charged  that 
I  had  murdered  him.  Therefore  the  cause  and  na- 
ture of  the  killing  were  to  be  determined.  Hence 
this  investigation. 


THE  TALE  THAT  PILON  TOLD  323 

Pilon  was  ordered  to  speak. 

"  Monsieur  Woodworth  is  guilty  and  a  great 
rascal,"  said  he  complacently. 

The  mayor  rapped  the  table. 

"  You  're  not  to  pass  judgment,  but  to  give  evi- 
dence. Begin  at  the  beginning." 

"  Where  is  the  beginning,  Monsieur  the  Mayor?  " 
Pilon  inquired  with  calmness. 

That  was  in  truth  a  question,  unless  we  were  to 
start  over  again  with  my  arrival  upon  the  island. 
However,  after  musing  on  the  matter  briefly, 
Surgon  said  the  witness  should  begin  with  the  morn- 
ing when  a  watch  was  set  upon  the  movements  of 
the  German  and  me. 

"  That  is  agreeable,  Monsieur  the  Mayor,"  the 
witness  stated,  not  neglecting  his  moustache.  "  It 
was  upon  consultation  of  the  committee  who  visited 
Monsieur  Woodworth,  and  after  they  had  beheld 
the  German  stranger  come  on  his  own  legs  to  make 
a  bargain  with  him,  that  it  was  decided  to  watch 
the  pair  and  prevent  the  sale  of  the  map.  I,  Pilon, 
suggested  this.  Had  not  this  man  Woodworth  at- 
tempted to  knock  out  my  brains  with  an  oar  and 
pursued  me  even  to  the  village?  Therefore  to  watch 
him  and  the  German  was  wise.  And  therefore  Pilon 
suggested  Esper  and  Descarte,  because  they  were 
skillful,  loyal,  and  loved  France;  and  they  were 
chosen.  All  of  one  day  they  kept  guard.  It  is  true 
that  monsieur  the  prisoner  "  —  this  was  rather  an- 
ticipating facts  —  "  sought  to  bribe  Esper ;  it  is 


324  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

also  true  that  the  German  spy  endeavored  to  escape 
from  Descarte,  walking  him  about  until  Descarte's 
feet  were  like  boiled  potatoes.  But  now  that  Des- 
carte has  been  murdered,"  he  went  on  philosophically, 
"  his  feet  do  not  matter.  Alas,  yesterday,  the  next 
day  after  his  watch  on  the  German,  he  could  not 
walk." 

"  I  observed  him  on  the  street,"  the  mayor  in- 
terrupted. 

"  That  is,  he  could  not  follow  the  German." 

The  mayor  held  up  a  forefinger. 

"  In  all  things  we  must  be  exact.  If  Descarte 
could  not  walk,  we  must  say  so;  if  he  could  not 
follow  the  stranger,  it  is  needful  to  say  so.  But  if 
he  could  go  on  his  feet  at  all,  that  is  a  different 
matter  and  must  so  be  written.  Do  you  observe 
the  distinction,  Pilon  ?  " 

:<  Yes,  Monsieur  the  Mayor,  and  a  very  good  one. 
Descarte  could  walk  but  not  walk  after  the  spy." 

"  Exactly  —  but  hold !  Was  the  man  a  spy  ? 
That  is  yet  to  be  proven.  Therefore,  Pilon,  speak 
of  him  as  the  stranger." 

"  It  is  true,  nevertheless  he  is  a  spy.  I,  Pilon, 
say  so.  That  should  be  sufficient."  And  he  cast  a 
challenging  look  about  the  room.  "  To  continue, 
while  Esper  watched  Monsieur  Woodworth,  I  looked 
about  for  the  stranger  in  order  to  —  " 

"  Monsieur  the  Mayor!  "  a  new  voice  interrupted. 

All  turned  about.  It  was  the  inn-woman  who  had 
spoken. 


THE   TALE   THAT    PILON    TOLD    325 

"  What  is  it,  Madame  Corbeau  ?  "  the  mayor  in- 
quired attentively. 

"  Pilon  and  Esper  and  Descarte  sat  in  the  inn  yes- 
terday from  half-past  ten  until  one,  and  from  two 
until  seven  in  the  evening.  They  drank  much  wine 
and  brandy,  of  which  the  score  was  but  partly  paid. 
How  then  could  Esper  have  watched  Monsieur 
Woodworth,  and  Pilon  have  searched  for  the 
stranger?  " 

Having  popped  this  question  into  the  investigation, 
she  proceeded  with  her  knitting.  Pilon  glanced  at 
her  —  she  to  trip  up  so  good  a  customer  as  himself ! 

"  Madame  must  be  mistaken,"  he  said  politely. 

"  There  is  no  mistake,  Monsieur  the  Mayor.  My 
score  book  tells  no  lies.  This  was  yesterday." 

"  Note  that  madame  takes  exception  to  this  state- 
ment, Gaspard,"  the  mayor  advised.  "  Proceed, 
Pilon." 

"  At  about  eight  o'clock  Esper  came  from  the 
house  of  Monsieur  Woodworth  to  inform  me  that 
he  and  the  German  were  to  meet  by  the  boats, 
whereupon  the  map  would  be  exchanged  for  money, 
France  betrayed.  I  had  already  observed  the 
stranger  go  out  of  the  inn  at  six  o'clock  —  " 

"  Monsieur  the  Mayor!  " 

It  was  the  inexorable  voice  of  the  inn-woman 
again. 

"Well,  madame?" 

"  The  German  paid  his  account  and  departed  at 
noon." 


326  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

Pilon  pulled  his  moustache  furiously. 

"  Mille  de  nom  d'un  chien!  Am  I  to  tell  the  story, 
or  am  I  not  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  It  is  perfectly  proper  that  madame  take  ex- 
ception." 

Pilon  glared  about.  "  Well,  one  cannot  be  ex- 
pected to  speak  easily  when  a  chattering  woman 
buzzes  like  a  fly  on  a  window.  As  I  was  saying, 
the  stranger  was  to  meet  Monsieur  the  prisoner  at 
the  boats.  There  was  no  time  to  run  to  the  mayor, 
to  warn  the  village.  *  Come,  my  comrades/  said 
I,  '  we  will  save  France,  we  three.  Her  honor 
is  our  honor.  Come,  .we  are  her  sons.' '  A  pause 
followed  this  sentiment,  while  he  rolled  his  eyes 
about  for  approval.  "  We  ran  into  the  street.  The 
fog  was  yellow  with  the  moon.  '  To  the  boats ! ' 
said  I.  Thither  we  ran,  I  leading.  But  when 
we  reached  them  no  one  was  to  be  seen  and  we 
walked  all  among  them,  looking  in  their  hulls  and 
among  the  sails  and  at  the  shadows,  but  no,  man 
Dieu!  they  had  not  come.  '  Stand  thou  here,  Des- 
carte  —  and  thou  here,  Esper/  said  I,  leading 
him  to  another  spot.  Then  I  went  to  a  third 
place.  He  who  saw  them  first  was  to  whistle 
twice,  but  not  until  they  had  come  together  so  we 
could  catch  them  and  make  them  prisoners  and  save 
France." 

"  This  was  at  what  hour  ?  "  Mr.  Moore  asked. 

"  About  eight,  monsieur." 

A  third  time  the  inn-woman  interrupted. 


THE  TALE  THAT  PILON  TOLD  327 

"  Pilon  entered  the  inn  a  little  before  nine  to 
purchase  a  flask  of  brandy,"  she  announced. 

"  Eight  or  nine,  I  know  not ! "  he  exclaimed 
angrily.  "  I  do  not  sit  knitting  with  my  eye  on  a 
clock.  How  should  I  know !  " 

"  Continue,"  the  Mayor  ordered. 

"  Peste,  if  I  am  allowed !  We  waited  for  a  long 
time,  so  long  that  I  went  to  Esper  and  said,  '  Art 
thou  certain  they  will  come,  little  one  ? '  and  Esper 
said  that  Monsieur  Woodworth  had  stated  the  hour 
named,  only  that  much  he  knew,  whereupon  I  went 
back  to  my  station.  '  It  will  be  a  long  wait,  possibly,' 
thought  I,  '  and  Pilon  may  grow  chilly.  He  had 
better  go  to  the  inn  and  purchase  some  brandy.'  It 
is  no  doubt  to  that  visit  madame  referred."  He 
smiled,  pleased  with  himself  at  this  cunning  ex- 
planation. "  When  I  returned,  I  halted  at  the  end 
of  the  street,  outside  this  boat-house  to  warm  me 
with  a  drink  of  the  brandy.  I  raised  the  flask  to 
my  lips.  Just  then  I  heard  a  whistle.  The  bottle 
dropped  from  my  fingers.  I  stood  harking." 

"  One  minute,  Pilon,"  Mr.  Moore  addressed  him, 
then  turned  to  Gaspard.  "  Did  you  find  a  broken 
bottle  before  your  door  this  morning?  " 

"  No,  monsieur." 

Pilon  burst  into  laughter. 

"  That  would  not  be,  a  broken  bottle.  For 
I  caught  it  before  it  struck  the  stones  of  the 
street." 

"  While  you  were  listening?  " 


328  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

"  Just  before,  monsieur.  I  am  very  quick.  Still 
holding  it  in  my  hand,  I  sprang  forward  to  the 
boats.  At  first  I  could  see  nothing.  I  shouted  and 
shouts  answered  me,  yet  they  were  uncertain  and 
the  night  was  full  of  the  yellow  fog,  so  I  ran  to 
and  fro  furious  to  be  in  the  melee.  All  at  once  I 
heard  a  noise  on  my  left,  further  down  where  I  had 
placed  Descarte.  I,  Pilon,  leaped  towards  the  spot. 
Alas,  a  rope  lay  on  the  sand,  it  tripped  me.  Again 
I  hurried  forward  —  to  behold  what !  That  poor 
Descarte  struggling,  then  monsieur  stabbed  him  in 
the  back  so  that  with  a  dreadful  cry  my  comrade 
fell  on  the  sand  murdered.  Meanwhile  the  German 
held  a  pistol  to  Esper's  head.  Then  the  two  of 
them  pursued  us;  we  had  but  knives,  while  they 
were  armed  with  a  revolver  and  a  club.  They  fol- 
lowed us  even  to  the  door  of  my  house,  which  I 
succeeded  barely  in  shutting  as  their  feet  fell  on  the 
sill." 

"And  the  brandy?" 

"  Ha,  that  was  strange !  I  never  once  let  go  of 
it,  never  knowing  it  was  in  my  hand  until  I  found 
it  there  when  we  were  safe  in  the  house." 

"  Remember,  Pilon,  it  is  not  yet  paid  for,"  the 
inn-woman  warned  him. 

"  Nom  de  nom  de  nom,  are  you  there  still ! "  he 
shouted. 

"  Do  you  know  where  Charles  Woodworth 
was  during  the  day  of  yesterday?"  Mr.  Moore 
questioned. 


THE  TALE  THAT  PILON  TOLD  329 

"  Not  of  my  own  knowledge,  monsieur.  At  his 
house,  I  suppose.  Esper  can  tell  you." 

"  You  did  not  see  him  until  night  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Why  did  you  not  alarm  the  village  after  this 
fight?" 

"  These  men  were  at  the  door,  monsieur,  and 
armed." 

His  answers  were  given  promptly;  it  was  appar- 
ent he  had  rehearsed  them.  Only  in  the  matter  of 
the  brandy  and  the  day's  surveillance  of  the  Ger- 
man and  me  had  he  been  taken  off  guard;  the 
first  point  he  had  later  mended,  the  latter  he  ignored. 
And  it  was  apparent  that  he  had  now  found  favor 
with  the  fisher  folk  in  the  account  which  he  gave, 
for  the  comments,  though  not  intended  for  my  ears 
but  nevertheless  reaching  them,  made  so  much  plain. 

"  It  is  infamous,  infamous !  "  Betty  whispered  to 
me.  "  Can  men  stand  up  and  declare  such  false- 
hoods!" 

"  Pilon  finds  no  trouble  doing  it,"  said  I. 

All  the  assurance  in  the  world  was  his.  He  had 
now  got  through  his  invented  tale,  the  worst  was 
over  and  he  perceived  that  Lavouche  was  with  him. 
Crossing  his  legs,  he  stared  at  me  with  unconcerned 
insolence;  the  flush  brought  to  his  face  by  the  in- 
spiration of  his  narrative  still  remained,  darkening 
his  swarthy  skin  and  making  his  countenance  more 
sinister.  Del  Hervalle  had  found  him  a  willing,  aye, 
an  eager  tool,  who  would  do  much  for  money  and 


33o  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

more  for  hate.  What  he  had  begun,  Esper  no  doubt 
would  finish.  In  the  minds  of  the  fishermen  I  would 
stand  convicted  as  a  seller  of  maps  and  as  a 
murderer. 

"  Do  you  charge  Charles  Woodworth  with  mur- 
der of  this  man,  Descarte?"  Mr.  Moore  asked 
slowly. 

"  I  do,  monsieur." 

"  That  is  sufficient,  take  your  seat.  Monsieur  the 
Mayor,  let  us  hear  what  refutation  Woodworth  has 
to  make." 

Again  I  mounted  the  platform.  The  charge  had 
now  been  made,  and  as  I  looked  into  the  faces  gaz- 
ing up  at  me  I  could  find  no  friendliness  there,  no 
sympathy,  no  belief  in  my  integrity,  only  curiosity 
and  distrust  and  grave  somberness.  If  my  story 
of  the  map  had  seemed  far-fetched,  what  would  be 
the  opinion  of  the  narration  which  I  was  about  to 
relate?  Pilon's  account  had  all  the  advantages  of 
simplicity,  brevity,  plausibility,  while  mine  involved 
so  many  romantic  occurrences,  so  extraordinary  a 
procession  of  events,  that  I  felt  that  it  would  con- 
vict me  out  of  hand  either  as  a  liar  or,  as  Del 
Hervalle  intimated,  a  madman.  Betty's  wistful  look 
was  unnerving  too.  Well,  I  could  only  tell  as 
straightforward  a  story  as  possible,  then  let  happen 
what  would.  Only  at  Stevens'  face  I  paused.  He 
sat,  as  he  had  all  the  while,  straight,  expressionless, 
but  with  the  corners  of  his  mouth  drawn  down  in 
a  hint  of  sardonic  humor.  Then  his  eyes  met  mine 


THE  TALE  THAT  PILON  TOLD  331 

and  —  was  it  in  truth  so  ?  —  one  of  the  lids  winked 
the  barest  wink  in  the  world.  A  ray  of  something 
—  hope,  confidence,  cheer  —  flashed  into  my  heart. 
What  it  meant,  I  knew  not;  but  that  it  indicated 
something  he  had  —  knowledge,  information,  sup- 
port —  I  felt  to  my  very  bones. 

"  My  father  came  to  this  island  years  ago,"  I 
said  in  a  clear  voice,  addressing  the  people.  "I,  on 
my  part,  played  on  these  sands  as  a  lad  and  sailed 
in  the  boats  with  you  as  a  youth.  In  all  that  time 
did  any  one  of  you  know  me  to  do  a  dishonest  or 
a  dishonorable  thing?  Yet  knowing  this,  you  have 
believed  the  first  tale  this  quarreler,  this  brawler, 
this  drunken  braggart  Pilon  told  you,  a  stranger  him- 
self in  Lavouche  and  no  doubt  with  a  past  he  dare 
not  allow  light  to  shine  upon.  Why,  let  me  ask, 
should  I  sell  this  map?  For  money?  I  have  more 
money  now  than  I  know  what  to  do  with;  as  is 
well  known  to  you,  my  father  possessed  wealth 
which  I  have  inherited.  The  charge  that  I  wished 
to  sell  this  map  to  a  foreigner  is  false  and  I  now 
give  it  to  Mr.  Moore  to  return  to  our  government. 
Of  all  the  village  of  Lavouche,  only  two  that  I  am 
aware  of  have  believed  in  me,  stood  by  me  and 
been  my  friends.  Others  of  you  with  whom  I  have 
broken  bread  have  first  suspected  and  then  believed 
evil  of  me  without  ever  giving  me  the  benefit  of 
a  doubt.  I  shall  remember  who  of  you  all  have 
been  my  true  friends  —  Jean  and  Gaspard  alone." 

A  sudden  scuffle  of  feet  broke  the  silence;    the 


332  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

figure  of  the  owner  of  the  donkey,  Papillon, 
stood  up. 

"I  —  I,  Monsieur  Charles,  believe  you  innocent !  " 
Antoine  shouted  excitedly,  extending  a  hand  in  an 
entreating  gesture. 

"  You  too  then  are  my  friend ;  I  shall  remember. 
If  there  are  others,  now  is  the  time  for  them  to 
declare  themselves  while  things  look  black  for  me," 
I  announced. 

One  more  there  was,  but  of  that  one  I  was  not 
to  learn  until  later.  Perhaps  there  was  here  and 
there  another  who  lacked  Antoine's  courage ;  at  any 
rate,  no  second  voice  was  lifted  in  my  behalf  in 
Gaspard's  boat-house. 

"  I  will  proceed,"  said  I ;  but  the  mayor  raised 
a  hand. 

"  You  will  admit,  Monsieur  Charles  Woodworth, 
that  there  is  evidence  against  you  which  Lavouche 
cannot  but  recognize." 

"  Recognize,  yes,  but  Lavouche  has  already  con- 
demned me.  It  yesterday  believed  me  guilty  of 
attempting  to  sell  the  map,  this  morning  believed  me 
guilty  of  murder,  and  I  can  read  that  belief  upon 
its  face  now.  Lavouche  has  not  even  granted  me 
what  every  man  is  entitled  to,  innocence  until  guilt 
be  proven.  And  therefore  I  seek  friendship  of 
Lavouche  neither  now  nor  hereafter." 

He  stared  at  the  table.    "  Proceed,"  he  said  finally. 

"  How  I  came  into  possession  of  the  map,  I  have 
already  related.  On  the  voyage  from  Texas  to 


THE  TALE  THAT  PILON  TOLD  333 

New  York,  which  I  previously  mentioned,  I  became 
acquainted  with  a  gentleman  who  has  extensive  in- 
terests in  Central  American  countries  and  Venezuela. 
I  gave  an  account  of  what  had  occurred  in  the  West 
when  I  obtained  the  map,  described  the  French 
mechanic  of  the  mines,  and  stated  how  I  had  last 
encountered  him  running  on  board  a  vessel  bound 
for  Venezuela,  the  same  vessel  on  which  by  chance 
Mr.  Moore  and  his  daughter  also  sailed.  This 
gentleman  instantly  recognized  the  man  by  my  ac- 
count —  and  with  good  reason.  For  another  person 
with  whom  he  had  done  business,  a  filibuster  by  the 
name  of  Lonagan,  had  been  shot  against  a  wall  in 
Venezuela  by  order  of  this  former  French  mechanic ; 
the  latter  had  risen  through  schemes  until  he  became 
a  friend  of  the  President  of  that  country.  The 
French  mechanic  was  no  other  than  the  man  who  is 
Mr.  Moore's  guest  and  who  is  now  an  envoy.  The 
mechanic  was  named  D'Urville  and  murdered  two 
men  while  at  the  mine  at  Forge;  he  now  calls  him- 
self Senor  Del  Hervalle  and  it  is  not  known  how 
many  murders  he  has  since  committed.  I  was  per- 
fectly acquainted  with  him  at  the  mine,  talked  with 
him  in  his  shop,  fought  against  him.  He  hints  that 
I  am  insane  and  possessed  by  an  hallucination;  if 
such  is  the  case,  then  the  owner  of  the  mine,  the 
former  manager  and  his  wife,  besides  others  who 
were  present  on  the  spot,  will  be  possessed  by  the 
same  form  of  hallucination  when  they  see  him. 
That  the  events  which  occurred  at  Forge  mine  are 


334  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

not  an  invention  of  a  disordered  mind,  Mr.  Moore 
and  his  daughter  can  affirm.  They  have  talked  with 
the  actors  who  were  engaged  in  the  struggle  and 
are  familiar  with  the  circumstances.  Is  such  not 
the  case,  Mr.  Moore  ?  " 

"  I  have  talked  with  the  persons  you  mention  and 
know  the  story  to  be  true,"  he  replied.  "  There  was 
a  French  mechanic.  The  description  given  of  his 
personal  appearance  was  similar,  I  regret  to  say, 
to  that  of  Sefior  Del  Hervalle.  It  is  a  striking 
likeness." 

Betty  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  I  too  have  had  the 
story  told  to  me  many  times  by  my  friends.  It  is  the 
truth."  And  she  sat  down  with  heightened  color, 
a  fighting  color. 

Ah,  this  was  better  than  I  had  hoped  for,  Mr. 
Moore  had  gone  further  than  I  dared  think.  But 
I  was  a  long  way  off  from  proving  that  D'Urville 
and  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  were  one  and  the  same  man, 
as  was  presently  evident  when  Davis  rose  and  stated 
that  he  had  continuously  served  the  envoy  as  secre- 
tary in  Venezuela  for  four  years  past  —  and  he  also 
added  a  word  on  hallucinations  and  mistaken  re- 
semblances and  "  doubles  "  and  so  forth.  Lavouche 
craned  and  stretched  its  ears.  The  investigation  was 
exceeding  its  fondest  hopes,  it  would  be  a  wonder 
to  relate  unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation. 

Presently  I  went  on.  "  When  I  came  to  the 
island,  it  was  with  no  other  idea  than  to  show  the 
map  to  my  army  friend,  evade  the  German,  and 


THE  TALE  THAT  PILON  TOLD  335 

deposit  the  paper  with  the  proper  American  au- 
thorities. A  storm. began  the  night  of  my  arrival, 
I  had  not  yet  been  to  Moore  House.  With  the 
abatement  of  the  gale  I  went  thither  in  the  evening 
and  recognized  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  as  an  old  enemy. 
Then  Stevens  and  Mr.  Davis  leaped  on  my  back, 
thinking  me  a  burglar,  and  I  was  dragged  into  the 
house  where  the  Senor  instantly  perceived  who 
I  was.  Stand  up,  Stevens,  and  tell  what  you 
know." 

At  my  word  of  command,  for  I  was  resolved  to 
push  the  matter  on  my  own  hook,  Stevens  arose. 

"  The  Senor  recognized  Mr.  Woodworth,"  said 
he.  "  He  spoke  his  name  the  first  time  he  laid 
eyes  on  him." 

"  And  yet  Senor  Del  Hervalle  denies  that  he  ever 
knew  me,"  I  stated.  "  Was  he  too  laboring  under 
an  hallucination  when  he  addressed  me  as  Charles 
Woodworth  if  he  had  not  met  me  in  the  Western 
mines?  Moreover,  he  searched  me,  found  the  map 
in  my  pocket,  at  once  knew  it  for  what  it  was,  since 
he  had  seen  it  often  two  years  before  at  Forge,  and 
gave  it  to  Mr.  Davis  to  secrete.  But  I  tore  myself 
from  Stevens'  grasp  and  followed  him  through 
the  house  and  out  upon  the  lawn,  where  I  forced 
it  from  the  secretary.  Was  that  an  hallucination 
when  I  choked  you  that  night  upon  the  grass,  Mr. 
Davis?" 

I  waited,  but  he  remained  silent.  Then  once  again 
I  bade  Stevens  stand. 


336  THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

"  What  did  the  Sefior  say  when  he  first  beheld 
the  map  ?  "  I  questioned. 

"  He  looked  at  it  and  exclaimed,  '  Ah,  the  map  of 
poor  Frederic.' ' 

"  Which  was  the  name  of  the  man  who  drew  it," 
I  explained,  "  Frederic  Douglass,  D'Urville's  com- 
panion in  crime  at  Forge,  the  man  in  whose  trunk 
the  map  was  found,  the  scoundrel  with  whom  Sefior 
Del  Hervalle  connived  to  steal  the  mine's  gold." 
Now  it  was  my  time  to  feel  a  slim  triumph,  for  my 
case  so  far  was  stronger  than  I  thought.  Del 
Hervalle  moistened  his  lips,  and  I  saw  that  Muriel 
drew  away  from  him.  "  It  would  seem  a  very,  very 
strange  thing  that  the  Sefior,  having  never  known 
me,  having  never  been  in  America  during  the  last 
five  years,  yet  should  at  once  know  me  upon  this 
encounter,  and  know  the  map  and  finally  pronounce 
the  name  of  the  very  man  whom  I  declare  to  have 
been  an  accomplice  of  the  French  mechanic  who  is 
identical  in  looks  with  the  Sefior.  Have  you  any 
questions  to  ask,  Monsieur  the  Mayor  ?  "  It  seemed 
that  he  had  not.  "  Shortly  thereafter  he  called  at 
Stag  Lodge  during  my  absence  and  attempted  to 
force  the  map  from  Andrew  at  the  point  of  a  pistol. 
Andrew  would  not  tell  where  it  was  hidden,  even 
when  he  thought  death  should  be  his  reward  the 
following  minute.  That  Sefior  Del  Hervalle  would 
henceforth  be  a  dangerous  enemy  I  guessed,  how 
dangerous  I  could  not  tell.  Presently  Margot,  Jean's 
half-sister,  sent  me  a  warning.  From  whom  she  ob- 


THE  TALE  THAT  PILON  TOLD  337 

tained  her  information  possibly  Mr.  Davis  can  in- 
struct you.  Elizabeth  Moore,  kindly  relate  your 
meeting  with  Margot." 

She  arose  swiftly.  "  I  met  her.  She  said  to  tell 
Mr.  Woodworth  '  Beware  strange  doors '  and  she 
would  say  no  more.  But  only  yesterday  morning 
she  sent  the  same  warning  to  him,  '  Beware  strange 
doors.'  " 

"  Let  Margot  speak,"  the  mayor  said. 

Jean  faced  about.  "  Margot  has  departed  from 
the  village.  Of  this  also  perhaps  Mr.  Davis  can 
speak." 

The  face  of  the  secretary  grew  a  trifle  more  yel- 
low, otherwise  remained  unchanged.  Nor  did  he 
answer. 

"  What  was  the  meaning  of  the  warning? " 
Surgon  asked. 

"  That  will  appear,"  I  said.  "  There  followed  the 
visit  of  the  committee,  the  posting  of  the  guards. 
At  ten  o'clock  yesterday  morning  Esper  informed 
me  that  Jean  had  been  injured,  was  asking  for  me. 
Never  thinking  of  a  trap,  I  hurried  to  the  village  and 
came  to  the  door  of  Pilon's  house  where  Jean  was 
supposed  to  lie.  Then  I  thought  of  the  warning, 
hesitated,  but  it  was  too  late,  for  I  was  shoved  into 
the  room  and  a  blanket  flung  over  my  head.  I  was 
then  carried  up  to  the  empty  third  story  where  I 
was  kept  a  prisoner.  It  seems  that  Andrew  and  Miss 
Moore  missed  me,  as  I  was  to  go  to  the  station  in 
Antoine's  cart  to  meet  my  friend,  the  army  officer." 


338  THE    ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  That  is  true,"  Antoine  roared.  "  With  my  little 
Papillon!  Charles,  you  never  came,  though  I  had 
fed  him  an  extra  measure  of  grain." 

Monsieur  the  Mayor  rapped  for  silence. 

"  Each  will  speak  only  when  called  upon,"  he 
said. 

"  But  it  is  true,  Surcpn ! "  Antoine  replied  stub- 
bornly. "  And  I  fed  him  an  extra  measure." 

"Silence  thou!"  The  owner  of  Papillon  sub- 
sided into  mutterings. 

The  villagers  were  with  me,  if  not  in  sympathy, 
at  least  in  interest.  Half  a  dozen  called  on  Antoine 
to  hush  and  for  me  to  continue. 

"  I  was  a  prisoner  in  Pilon's  house  from  ten  in 
the  morning  until  night.  About  seven  o'clock  I 
broke  the  pane  of  glass  in  a  window  with  my  head 
in  order  to  shout,  but  the  street  was  empty,  it  still 
being  supper-time.  Then  Pilon  and  Descarte  and 
Esper  came  out  of  the  inn,  and  I  was  in  fear  lest 
they  perceive  the  splinters  of  glass  upon  the  pave- 
ment, a  thing  which  they  finally  did.  Presently  my 
friend,  Lieutenant  Harrington,  appeared  coming  up 
the  street;  I  shouted.  Pilon  rushed  into  the  house 
and  dragged  me  away  before  the  lieutenant  could 
discover  who  called  to  him." 

'  Thou  liest!  "  Pilon  said  fiercely. 

"  I  speak  the  truth.  During  the  afternoon  Sefior 
Del  Hervalle  paid  me  a  visit  in  order  to  persuade  me 
to  give  him  the  map.  But  it  was  not  because  of  the 
map  that  I  had  been  made  a  prisoner,  no,  but  be- 


THE   TALE    THAT   PILON    TOLD    339 

cause  I  knew  he  was  no  other  than  the  French 
mechanic  and  he  was  determined  that  I  should  die. 
Pilon,  Descarte,  and  Esper  were  to  carry  me  out  to 
sea  that  night,  stab  me,  and  cast  my  body  into  the 
waters.  Pilon  had  his  boat  ready.  When  I  had 
been  dragged  away  from  the  window  —  see,  here 
the  glass  cut  my  face  —  I  gave  up  hope." 

I  paused  in  my  story.  Excitement  in  the  room 
was  intense,  but  it  was  with  the  tension  of  immova- 
bility. The  fisher  folk  scarcely  breathed ;  only  Pilon 
was  furiously  twirling  his  moustache  and  glaring  at 
me.  Del  Hervalle's  eyes  had  narrowed  to  slits, 
though  a  smile  rested  upon  his  lips;  old  Gaspard 
had  ceased  to  write,  remaining  with  pen  poised; 
even  Jean  had  given  over  his  surveillance  of  Esper 
and  was  gazing  at  me,  though  the  tale  was  not  new 
to  his  ears.  Had  I  hoped  to  produce  a  dramatic 
effect,  I  could  have  been  no  more  successful. 

"  And  so  it  came  to  nine  o'clock ;  then  I  escaped 
just  as  I  was  about  to  be  led  away  to  Pilon's  boat. 
Descarte,  Esper,  and  Del  Hervalle  were  in  the  room 
when  I  leaped  up  and  hurled  the  chair  on  which  I 
sat.  It  struck  the  Sefior  in  the  breast,  knocking  him 
over,  and  I  fled  down  the  stair  and  into  the  street." 

"How  did  you  escape,  monsieur?"  the  mayor 
demanded,  leaning  across  the  table. 

"  Esper  was  accommodating  enough  to  cut  the 
rope  at  the  last  minute." 

Something  like  a  gurgle  sounded  in  Pilon's  throat. 
His  eyes  darted  murder  at  the  little  man  beside  him. 


340  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

As  for  Esper  he  gazed  at  the  floor,  while  his  flicker- 
ing smile  came  and  went.     Surc,on  bade  me  go  on. 

"  Descarte  and  Esper  pursued  me.  I  became  con- 
fused, ran  among  the  boats,  and  there  was  cornered. 
Descarte  attacking  me,  I  knocked  his  knife  from  his 
hand,  whereupon  we  grappled  and  next  instant  I 
was  fighting  for  my  life.  But  I  had  had  neither 
food  nor  drink  during  the  day,  in  addition  to  being 
bound  for  ten  hours  —  I  was  weak  —  he  got  his 
hand  on  my  throat  and  almost  finished  me.  Then 
Esper  killed  him  and  saved  my  life." 

Drawing  a  long  breath,  I  leaned  back  in  my  chair. 
My  defense  was  made,  how  good  or  how  poor  it 
was  not  for  me  to  say;  the  countenances  of  the 
fishermen  which  had  betokened  varying  astonish- 
ment and  excitement  during  the  recital  now  resumed 
their  stolid  and  inscrutable  look.  Moved  they  had 
been,  but  moved  to  believe  was  another  thing,  though 
with  that  peculiar  prescience  for  which  we  can 
hardly  account  I  felt  that  I  had  shaken  Pilon's 
story;  the  evidence  of  Betty  and  Stevens,  slender 
as  it  was,  supplementing  my  narrative  showed  them 
that  there  was  more  here  than  they  had  dreamt  of 
and  that  Del  Hervalle  despite  his  denial  was  some- 
how mixed  in  the  matter.  But  merely  to  shake  be- 
lief is  not  enough;  Esper  would  succeed  me,  that 
treacherous  little  scoundrel  who  would  sell  his  soul 
for  money.  Even  at  this  instant  he  was  leering 
at  me  sardonically,  like  a  satanic  gargoyle.  His 
affirmation  of  Pilon's  tale  would  swing  the  scale 


THE  TALE  THAT  PILON  TOLD  341 

once  more  to  the  other  side  and  I  would  indeed 
be  branded  as  a  villain  or  a  madman. 

"  There  was  no  one  saw  you  enter  the  village 
when  you  went  to  Pilon's  house  ? "  the  mayor 
inquired. 

"  No,  the  street  was  empty." 

"  Note  that  fact,  clerk."  Old  Gaspard,  seeking 
in  bewildered  haste  to  remember  as  much  of  my  story 
as  possible  and  set  it  down,  nodded  his  head.  "  You 
stated  that  you  were  captured  by  the  German  last 
night  and  taken  aboard  a  yacht.  There  seems  a 
discrepancy,  Monsieur  Woodworth." 

"  Not  at  all.  Andrew  and  Lieutenant  Harrington 
were  searching  for  me;  they  came  up  the  beach 
about  ten  and  met  me.  It  was  after  we  returned  to 
Stag  Lodge  that  the  German  sprang  his  surprise." 

A  considerable  pause  ensued.  During  the  interval 
I  again  perceived  the  singular  operation  of  Stevens' 
eyelid ;  this  time  it  was  a  distinct,  unconcealed,  bold 
wink.  What  did  he  mean?  Had  he  not  told  all  he 
knew?  I  studied  him,  watched  for  a  further  sign, 
but  there  was  none.  He  now  sat  stolid,  apparently 
indifferent. 

"  Monsieur,  you  are  excused,"  Surgon  stated. 

I  rose,  glad  that  the  ordeal  was  finished.  It  was 
then,  as  I  stood  ready  to  step  off  the  platform,  that 
my  eyes  strayed  to  the  group  filling  the  door.  At 
first  I  perceived  nothing  different  from  what  had 
been,  for  I  was  gazing  against  the  light;  directly 
however  I  noted  several  new  heads,  strange  ones  in 


342  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

Lavouche.  One  man  smiled  at  me  and  put  a  finger 
on  his  lips  —  a  wild  tumult  burst  forth  in  my  heart, 
a  sense  of  triumph  swelled  my  soul.  For  the  man 
who  had  placed  a  finger  upon  his  lips,  cautioning 
silence,  was  the  one  person  who  knew  Del  Hervalle 
for  what  he  was,  aye,  knew  the  villain  from  the  top 
of  his  bald  shiny  head  to  the  tips  of  his  patent- 
leather  shoes. 

And  with  my  first  care-free  breath  that  day,  with 
a  singing  in  my  heart,  I  stepped  down  and  walked 
to  my  seat. 


THE   TALE  THAT   ESPER   TOLD 

"  This  is  excellent  jest,  this  murder,"  Esper  be- 
gan and  looked  down  his  nose,  smiling. 

His  turn  upon  the  witness  stand  had  arrived. 
Though  the  investigation  had  now  been  in  progress 
three  hours  and  it  was  nearly  five  o'clock,  there  was 
no  abatement  in  the  attention  of  the  spectators;  if 
anything,  their  interest  was  quickened  as  the  end 
drew  near.  After  the  conclusion  of  my  testimony 
there  had  been  a  pause  during  which  time  the  great 
doors  behind  the  platform  were  opened  a  little  way 
to  provide  ventilation,  chairs  were  shifted  about, 
Gaspard's  pen  sharpened,  and  all  once  more  made 
ready.  It  was  to  be  the  final  act  of  the  drama 
played  within  the  boat-house ;  all  felt  that  the  climax 
had  come  and  gathered  themselves  to  meet  it.  But 
I  —  I  could  have  laughed,  for  I  knew  what  lies 
Esper  would  tell  and  I  held  in  reserve  still  another 
witness. 

The  little  fellow  had  mounted  to  the  chair, 
smirked,  laid  his  hat  upon  the  board,  tickled  the 
side  of  his  bent  nose  with  forefinger,  and  began 
his  testimony  with  a  characteristic  preface.  Jean 
for  the  first  time  left  his  position  by  the  wall;  he 


344  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

quietly  moved  to  the  edge  of  the  platform,  where  he 
seated  himself  on  the  planking  not  three  feet  from 
the  witness'  elbow.  Esper  eyed  him  furtively,  eyed 
the  handle  of  the  revolver  which  peeped  out  from 
the  young  fisherman's  coat  at  the  belt-line,  while 
Jean  for  his  part  was  seemingly  engaged  with  other 
thoughts  and  sat  as  ever  with  arms  folded,  gazing 
straight  before  him. 

"  A  most  excellent  jest,"  Esper  repeated. 

Surgon  rapped  smartly  on  the  table.  "  There  is 
no  jest  in  it  whatever,"  he  said. 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur  the  Mayor,"  Esper  replied, 
twisting  his  head  about,  "  is  it  not  a  jest  that  —  " 

"  Begin,  begin !    And  at  the  beginning." 

"  Nom  de  chien!  if  one  begins,  how  else  could  it 
be  but  at  a  beginning?  I  have  the  honor. to  inform 
every  one  that  I  was  born  in  a  stable  in  the  town 
of  Luneville,  Department  of  Meurthe-et-Moselle,  in 
France.  I  am  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  have  fol- 
lowed the  professions  of  street-vender,  paper-seller, 
musician,  juggler,  chef,  fisherman,  valet-de-chambre, 
writer,  grave-digger,  and  barber;  I  have  lived  in 
Lyons,  Chalons,  Orleans,  Rochelle,  Marseilles,  Bor- 
deaux, Cologne,  Paris,  Geneva,  Venice,  Genoa,  Tunis, 
Lisbon,  St.  Johns,  Quebec,  and  Lavouche ;  my  nose 
was  broken  by  a  soldier  who  disputed  with  me 
over  a  woman;  I  can  fence,  speak  five  languages, 
dance  beautifully,  weave  baskets,  and  compose 
amorous  verses;  I  have  been  thrice  seriously  ill 
—  once  with  typhus,  once  with  cholera,  once  with 


THE   TALE   THAT   ESPER   TOLD    345 

jaundice,  besides  which  I  am  troubled  with  bald- 
ness and  have  been  kissed  by  St.  Vitus  on  the  lips; 
I  am  —  " 

"  Stop !  "  Surgon  thundered. 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  the  Mayor." 

"  We  care  not  what  you  are  or  what  you  can  do ; 
get  on  with  your  evidence." 

"  In  good  time,  monsieur ;  permit  me  also  to 
state  that  I  am  familiar  with  judicial  procedure.  I 
have  been  eight  times  arrested,  but  each  time 
through  mistake;  seventeen  times  a  witness;  and 
forty-three  times  present  at  trials  where  I  had  an 
interest  —  these  in  many  cities  and  in  various 
proces  d' examination" 

He  perked  over  his  shoulder  like  a  clown,  his  long 
horse- face  turned  to  Surgon,  his  smile  flickering  like 
candle-light. 

"  Begin  with  Lavouche,"  the  mayor  ordered. 

"  As  is  agreeable  to  you.  I  came  to  Lavouche 
with  Descarte,  who  was  a  drunkard,  and  with  Pilon, 
who  is  also  a  drunkard  and  whom  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  in  Marseilles  one  time  when  he  had 
just  been  released  from  the  galleys  —  " 

"  Galleys,  thou  rat ! "  Pilon  shouted,  starting  to 
his  feet,  "  I  have  not  yet  worn  the  iron  —  I  will 
strangle  thee ! " 

"  Silence  —  silence !  "  the  mayor  cried,  and  Pilon 
fell  back  fuming. 

"  It  is  true,  thou  hast  the  love-marks  of  the  little 
rings  on  thy  ankles  even  to  this  day,"  Esper  con- 


346  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

tinued.  "  We  came  to  Lavouche  to  fish.  Said  Pilon, 
*  There  are  those  simpletons  down  yonder ;  we  will 
find  a  way  to  empty  their  pockets.'  That  appeared 
an  excellent  jest,  so  we  came.  I,  Esper,  was  dis- 
appointed to  find  this  spot  but  a  little  village;  to 
one  who  had  lived  in  cities  it  was  insignificant,  hope- 
less, though  I  congratulate  madame  upon  the  fact 
that  she  keeps  excellent  wine.  One  day  we  became 
acquainted  with  Senor  Del  Hervalle,  and  Pilon  con- 
ducted certain  business  matters  with  that  gentleman. 
It  seems  that  they  concerned  Monsieur  Woodworth, 
but  what  will  you,  men  must  live!  Monsieur  was 
to  be  pickled  like  a  mackerel,  though  in  the  sea  in- 
stead of  in  a  cask.  I  it  was  who  informed  him,  in 
accordance  with  the  trap  which  had  been  set,  that 
Jean  lay  hurt.  That  too  was  amusing." 

"  Thou  villain !  "    Pilon  sprang  forward. 

Esper  leaped  to  his  feet,  whipped  forth  a  knife. 

"  Villain  thou !  Have  I  borne  thy  kicks  and  cuffs 
and  flung  wine-cups,  swine,  for  nothing!  Ha,  you 
have  taken  money  and  not  divided,  kept  monsieur's 
watch  and  not  divided  —  come  thou  here  and  let  me 
slit  your  gullet  a  little  way.  Esper  is  a  rat,  Esper 
is  a  marionette,  Esper  is  an  old  boot  to  kick  about ! 
I  have  waited,  thou  dog  and  son  of  a  dog!  Come, 
I  will  pick  your  teeth  with  my  knife  point,  I  will 
tickle  your  fat  belly.  Name  of  God,  I  will  slice  you 
into  ribbons  and  little  squares !  "  And  hissing  curses, 
Esper  stood  knife  in  hand,  an  image  of  hate  and 
rage. 


THE  TALE  THAT  ESPER  TOLD  347 

Next  minute  Pilon  had  been  thrust  back  into  his 
seat  by  those  nearest  him;  Esper's  knife  had  van- 
ished, his  transport  of  fury  with  it,  and  he  sat  again 
the  same  inimitable  little  fellow  he  had  been  before 
his  outburst,  smiling  down  his  nose.  To  see  him, 
it  was  to  believe  that  nothing  had  happened.  Pres- 
ently he  was  commanded  to  proceed  with  his 
evidence. 

"  Monsieur  Woodworth  with  the  blanket  over  his- 
head  looked  very  much  like  an  Algerian  duenna.  It 
was  entertaining;  also  his  vexation  when  he  was 
tied  in  the  chair  in  the  loft  was  amusing  —  it  would 
make  me  blush,  Monsieur  the  Mayor,  to  repeat  some 
of  the  remarks  which  passed  monsieur's  lips.  I  am 
sensitive  of  coarse  speech,  yes,  having  acted  in  the 
capacity  of  valet-de-chambre  and  being  used  to 
agreeable  society.  True,  as  madame  stated,  we  drank 
much  of  the  day  and  much  of  her  brandy  in  the 
inn.  In  the  evening  Monsieur  Woodworth  and  I 
engaged  in  private  discussion,  speculating  on  what 
it  would  be  like  to  dwell  under  the  sea  where  there 
is  so  much  salt,  likewise  debating  a  little  business 
transaction.  Mon  Dieu,  monsieur  has  wit  and  the 
talk  was  excellent  between  us;  monsieur  is  also  a 
business  gentleman  and  we  arrived  at  a  satisfactory 
agreement  whereby  he  was  to  pay  me  five  hundred 
dollars  for  cutting  the  rope.  Monsieur  is  nimble; 
it  was  astonishing  even  to  me  who  have  seen  many 
extraordinary  things  to  perceive  the  rapidity  with 
which  he  gave  his  compliments  in  the  form  of  a 


THE    ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

chair  to  Senor  Del  Hervalle.  Sefior  was  quite 
prostrated  by  them." 

I  glanced  at  Del  Hervalle,  a  pallor  had  crept  into 
his  face,  but  the  complacent  look  still  lingered ;  what 
his  feelings  were,  now  that  his  tool  was  betraying 
him,  I  could  only  imagine.  His  self-control  was 
magnificent.  The  villagers  were  whispering  to- 
gether, casting  open  looks  at  him,  for  their  belief 
in  Pilon's  lie  had  fled  before  this  square  repudiation 
by  Esper.  And  the  most  excellent  jest  of  all  was 
the  manner  in  which  little  Esper,  with  a  heart  full 
of  hate  for  his  comrade,  leading  him  into  the  trap 
while  deceiving  me  at  the  same  time  in  the  thought 
that  he  would  commit  perjury,  had  bided  his 
moment. 

"  That  brute  of  a  Descarte  and  I  followed  mon- 
sieur down  the  street  into  the  boats,"  he  continued. 
"  There  they  fought.  I  watched  the  struggle.  Then 
presently  I  pricked  Descarte  in  the  back,  and  Des- 
carte ceased  to  be  further  interested  or  interesting. 
After  that  monsieur  and  I  planned  a  little,  for  there 
was  still  Pilon  and  the  Senor  to  deal  with.  Senor 
was  an  orange  which  had  not  yet  been  squeezed, 
except  by  Pilon,  —  therefore  a  little  squeezing  by 
Esper  was  very  proper,  was  it  not,  Monsieur  the 
Mayor?  Yet  Senor  Del  Hervalle  is  a  dry  orange; 
only  a  few  drops  came  forth  between  my  fingers 
and  thumb  when  he  asked  me  to  swear  to  Pilon's 
lie,  only  three  hundred  dollars,  Monsieur  the 
Mayor.  Norn  de  D\eu,  that  part  of  the  jest  was 


THE  TALE  THAT  ESPER  TOLD  349 

disappointing,"  said  he,  wrinkling  his  brow  in 
regret. 

Where  he  sat,  excitable  Antoine,  owner  of  the 
donkey,  stood  up  and  shook  a  fist. 

"  Thou  Pilon  —  wretch,  liar !  Had  I  but  my 
fingers  on  thy  throat!  To  seek  to  lie  Monsieur 
Charles'  life  away !  " 

Confusion  arose,  people  sprang  to  their  feet  in 
excitement.  With  a  curse  Pilon  leaped  up,  while 
watchful  Jean  ran  forward,  thrusting  his  revolver 
into  his  face. 

"  Sit,"  he  commanded. 

Sulkily  Pilon  obeyed,  and  the  mayor  began  to 
pound  on  his  table  and  call  for  order.  This  was 
slow  to  come,  voices  spoke  throughout  the  room  in 
agitated  talk;  no  longer  was  I  believed  guilty,  no 
longer  a  murderer.  Looking  over  my  shoulder,  I 
observed  that  the  strangers  who  had  listened  in  the 
rear  had  pressed  forward  until  now  they  stood  in 
the  aisle.  There  were  four  of  them,  two  whom  I 
knew,  two  whom  I  did  not. 

"  Order !  "  Surgon  roared.  "  Esper,  you  are 
excused." 

The  witness  stepped  down,  glanced  at  Pilon,  who 
in  turn  glared  at  him,  opening  and  shutting  his 
hands,  then  deposited  his  small  body  on  the  edge 
of  the  platform  and  against  the  wall  across  the 
room  from  his  former  companion  and  leader. 

"  Monsieur  the  Mayor,  I  would  speak,"  said  the 
inn-woman.  She  turned  to  her  tousle-headed  boy. 


350  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  Stand  thou  up  on  thy  chair  and  repeat  what  thou 
heard  while  serving  wine  to  Pilon  and  Descarte 
and  Esper,  or  I  shall  rap  thy  ears  soundly." 

The  boy,  possibly  ten  years  old,  began  to  weep 
with  fear  at  prospect  of  this  undesired  prominence, 
but  climbed  up  as  he  was  bidden.  In  a  timid  voice 
he  began  his  account,  aided  by  suggestions  from 
the  inn-woman;  gradually  interest  in  what  he  was 
saying  restored  his  confidence,  he  wiped  the  tears 
from  his  cheeks,  licked  the  corners  of  his  mouth, 
and  concluded  this  part  of  the  evidence.  He  had 
served  Pilon,  Descarte,  and  Esper  with  wine  and 
brandy  during  yesterday,  going  to  and  fro  between 
the  barrels  and  their  tables ;  it  was  while  engaged  in 
this  trudging  service,  an  apron  tied  about  his  neck 
and  while  he  placed  their  glasses  or  wiped  the  board 
with  a  cloth  or  stood  behind  them  awaiting  fresh 
orders,  that  he  caught  scraps  of  their  conversation. 
As  he  told  his  disconnected  tale,  he  pointed  a  stubby 
dirty  finger  now  at  Pilon,  now  at  Esper,  now  at  me. 
It  was  in  the  loft  of  a  house  that  I  was  tied;  Pilon 
had  made  his  boat  ready,  but  Descarte  growled  in 
his  winecup  because  his  feet  were  sore;  they  had 
also  disputed  about  a  timepiece  which  they  had, 
which  they  even  brought  forth  and  displayed  while 
they  quarreled;  they  were  in  the  inn  most  of  the 
day  and  they  were  going  to  take  me  out  of  the 
house  at  night  and  out  upon  the  water.  Scraps 
only  he  heard,  in  scraps  he  told  their  talk,  in  short 
jerky  sentences,  with  much  time  for  thought  be- 


THE   TALE   THAT    ESPER   TOLD    351 

tween,  with  many  promptings,  with  innumerable 
details  of  himself  and  of  the  cups  and  the  table 
and  the  barrels  and  the  wine. 

"  Last  night  he  told  it  all  to  me,"  madame  affirmed. 
"  And  I  saw  Monsieur  Charles  go  by  the  window 
with  Esper  at  ten  o'clock  yesterday  morning,  saw 
them  though  I  was  bent  over  the  stocking  which  I 
knitted  and  though  it  was  foggy.  But  I  see  many 
things  of  which  I  do  not  speak  until  the  proper 
time." 

Here  was  another  friend  and  more  proof  that 
my  tale  was  true.  By  every  one  madame  was  known 
for  her  knitting  and  her  quiet  tongue,  which  when 
it  did  vent  speech  uttered  words  for  a  purpose;  so 
there  was  no  doubt  any  longer  in  the  minds  of  the 
fishermen  that  I  was  the  innocent  victim  of  a  plot. 

"  Pilon,"  the  mayor  started  to  say. 

By  rising  to  his  feet  Stevens  however  caused  him 
to  pause. 

"  With  Mr.  Moore's  consent  I  will  give  some 
information." 

"  Speak,"  Mr.  Moore  said. 

"  It 's  this.  I  was  aware  that  Sefior  Del  Hervalle 
had  recognized  Mr.  Woodworth  on  their  first  meet- 
ing. I  suspected  at  the  time  that  there  was  some- 
thing underneath  the  surface,  but  of  course  could 
do  nothing  more  to  find  out.  First,  Miss  Betty, 
who  also  suspected  something,  asked  me  to  keep  my 
eyes  open ;  then  Mr.  Woodworth  told  me  this  morn- 
ing to  keep  the  Sefior  under  surveillance  as  much  as 


352  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

possible.  At  a  little  before  one  o'clock  the  Senor 
walked  alone  up  and  down  on  the  lawn  before  Moore 
House,  after  which  he  suddenly  entered  the  wood 
and  moved  rapidly  towards  Stag  Lodge."  When 
Stevens  made  this  statement  I  straightened,  my  heart 
beating  with  exultation.  I  glanced  at  Del  Hervalle, 
who  had  given  a  start.  The  fox  was  trapped  at 
last.  "  Keeping  behind  him  and  following  under 
cover  of  bushes,  I  too  went  in  that  direction,  not 
letting  him  out  of  my  sight.  Presently  he  halted  in 
sight  of  the  open  space  before  the  Lodge.  Then  he 
began  to  retreat  carefully,  while  I  did  the  same, 
keeping  a  gap  between  us.  Mr.  Woodworth  and 
Andrew  were  in  sight,  walking  slowly  up  the  path 
in  the  wood  and  conversing.  The  Senor  watched 
them  a  moment ;  suddenly  he  stepped  into  the  open, 
fired  a  revolver,  then  turned  and  ran,  glancing  over 
his  shoulder  towards  the  place  where  the  other  pair 
halted.  It  was  only  by  flinging  myself  down  upon 
the  ground  that  I  escaped  being  seen.  Whether 
any  one  was  hit  by  the  bullet,  I  did  not  at  the 
time  learn,  as  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  follow  after  the 
Senor  and  see  whether  or  not  he  returned  to  Moore 
House.  This  he  did.  Since  the  beginning  of  the 
investigation  it  comes  out  that  Andrew  was  shot. 
Senor  Del  Hervalle  did  it,  and  I  accuse  him  of  hold- 
ing the  pistol  and  pulling  the  trigger." 

An  uproar  broke  forth  in  the  room.  Antoine 
shouted  to  hang  Pilon,  to  hang  Del  Hervalle,  to 
hang  Esper,  to  hang  all  the  villains  in  Lavouche. 


353 

Men  crowded  forward,  turning  to  each  other  as  they 
advanced,  questioning  what  to  do,  whether  or  not 
to  act ;  women  chattered  in  terrified  anxious  voices ; 
children  whimpered.  Chairs  scraped,  shavings  rus- 
tled, voices  rang  noisily  throughout  the  shop. 

"  Order !  "  Surgon  bawled. 

He  seized  Gaspard's  ink-pot  and  beat  the  table 
violently,  splashing  ink  everywhere.  "  Order  — 
silence!  Be  seated!  Let  the  Sefior  speak!" 

Ah  yes,  let  the  Senor  say  what  he  had  to  say; 
the  words  were  caught  up  and  repeated  from  person 
to  person.  That  would  be  worth  hearing,  that ;  and 
hushing  one  another  the  people  stiffened  in  expectant 
silence.  Yes,  indeed,  now  was  the  time  for  Del 
Hervalle,  who  had  laid  plots,  woven  .schemes,  spoken 
of  hallucinations,  to  come  forth  and  explain  this 
thing  which  Stevens  had  declared.  I  leaned  back 
in  my  seat  —  the  hour  had  struck  for  Del  Hervalle. 

He  arose  quietly  and  looked  about. 

"  Many  lies  have  been  told  to-day,"  he  said, 
"  greatest  of  all,  this  last  one.  I  am  here,  an  envoy 
from  another  nation,  on  important  business  with 
your  government.  I  do  not  even  answer  it,  I  ignore 
the  charge  of  assassination  —  it  is  absurd,  malicious, 
impossible.  The  tale  that  Charles  Woodworth  re- 
lates is  the  fabrication  of  a  disordered  mind,  he 
should  be  examined  by  medical  experts  for  lunacy. 
I  deny  all  that  has  been  pronounced  of  me;  this  I 
do,  though  it  is  not  necessary  to  make  any  state- 
ment, since  I  am  a  foreign  official  and  responsible 


354  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

only  to  my  own  government  for  my  conduct.  Your 
own  country  will  and  must  respect  my  person. 
Absurd  all  this  story,  when  I  have  never  been  in 
America  before,  when  I  am  uninterested  in  what 
you  do,  know  no  one  —  " 

A  voice  broke  in  upon  his  statement,  a  figure 
strode  up  the  aisle  and  confronted  him. 

"  You  know  me,  D'Urville."  It  was  Jack  Mait- 
land  who  spoke,  Jack,  whom  I  had  urged  by  letter 
and  telegram  to  come  to  my  assistance  and  who, 
with  three  companions,  had  arrived  in  the  midst 
of  the  investigation.  "  You  know  me,  monsieur, 
though  I  Ve  not  seen  you  since  two  years  ago  when 
you  helped  Douglass  steal  gold  from  Forge  and 
sought  to  murder  me  there." 

Del  Hervalle  shrank  away  from  him  until  he 
brushed  Pilon's  body.  Rapidly  he  shot  a  look  over 
the  room;  everywhere  were  inimical  faces,  every- 
where hostile  eyes.  By  a  wonderful  effort  he  recov- 
ered his  composure,  spoke  a  few  low  rapid  words  to 
Pilon.  I  glanced  at  his  secretary,  Davis ;  the  man's 
skin  was  sickly,  his  eyes  were  closed,  and  more  than 
ever  his  face  seemed  carved  out  of  ivory ;  his  breath 
came  with  difficulty,  as  if  it  caught  and  hung  for  an 
instant  somewhere  about  his  heart. 

"  I  am  Senor  Del  Hervalle,"  said  the  envoy 
smoothly. 

"  Senor  Del  Hervalle  you  may  call  yourself," 
Maitland  retorted,  "but  D'Urville  you  are  never- 
theless, the  same  D'Urville  who  blackened  Forge 


THE  TALE  THAT  ESPER  TOLD  355 

with  crimes  and  together  with  Frederic  Douglass 
strove  to  take  my  life.  Now  you  are  seeking  Wood- 
worth's  because  he  recognizes  you  for  what  you  are 
and  is  a  menace  to  your  safety.  But  it  won't  do, 
D'Urville,  it  won't  do.  For  here  also  is  Mr.  Fenton, 
whom  you  will  remember.  Ah,  you  're  masquerad- 
ing now  in  a  long  coat  instead  of  a  smudged  me- 
chanic's jacket;  you  are  very  adroit,  very  plausible, 
and  one  of  the  most  dangerous  criminals  that  walk 
the  earth." 

Mr.  Fenton,  the  iron-jawed,  large-boned  New 
York  financier,  advanced  to  Maitland's  side.  He 
tugged  at  his  gray  moustache,  scrutinizing  the  little 
Frenchman.  "  It  is  he,  no  mistake  about  that.  I  'm 
glad  to  see  you  again,  monsieur,  though  the  pleasure 
was  one  I  never  expected  to  experience.  But  now 
I  shall  see  that  you  hang  by  the  neck ;  I  've  come  in 
a  special  train  all  the  distance  from  New  York  in 
your  honor." 

By  now  the  villagers  crowded  close  in  a  semi- 
circle about  the  actors.  The  new  and  final  turn 
which  the  presence  of  the  New  Yorkers  gave  keyed 
them  to  the  last  notch  of  expectancy  and  excitement. 

"  It  is  a  very  fine  jest  indeed,  is  it  not,  Monsieur 
the  Mayor?"  spoke  Esper,  from  the  witness  chair 
upon  which  he  had  leaped  to  have  a  better  view  and 
where  now  he  stood  an  impudent  observer. 

Surgon  rolled  an  eye  at  him,  but  being  too  pro- 
foundly astonished  at  the  whole  affair  to  make 
admonition  remained  silent. 


356  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  I  am  the  envoy  of  Venezuela,"  said  Senor  Del 
Hervalle  in  the  same  smooth  voice  he  had  previously 
commanded,  "  and  consequently  immune  from  inter- 
ference on  your  part.  Mr.  Moore  will  so  inform 
you.  I  refer  you  to  your  government  and  —  " 

"  That  won't  serve,  D'Urville,"  Mr.  Fenton  an- 
swered dryly.  "  I  burned  the  wires  all  day  yester- 
day between  New  York  and  Washington  in  order 
to  put  the  government  in  possession  of  the  facts 
pertaining  to  you,  and  these  two  gentlemen  "  —  he 
indicated  the  men  who  stood  a  little  way  behind  him 
—  "  are  here  with  authority  to  act.  One  is  from  the 
State  Department,  the  other  is  a  secret  service  officer. 
Venezuela,  I  fear,  will  lose  an  envoy." 

"Ha,  Pilon,  how  tastes  this  soup?"  Esper  in- 
quired gayly. 

"  Order !  "  Surc.on  said  mechanically,  "  order  and 
silence ! " 

"  Very  well,  Monsieur  Fenton.  Will  you  be  so 
accommodating  as  to  hand  me  my  hat  ?  "  Senor  Del 
Hervalle  requested.  "  Then  we  will  proceed." 

When  the  covering  was  given  to  him,  he  bowed 
low  politely.  When  he  straightened  up,  an  empty 
chair  rose  in  his  hand  and  flew  straight  at  the  ring 
of  people  before  him.  So  silent,  so  sudden,  so 
wholly  astounding  was  the  attack  that  Maitland,  the 
secret  service  officer,  Fenton,  all  of  us  fell  back, 
flinging  up  shielding  arms. 

With  a  light  bound  Del  Hervalle  sprang  upon 
the  platform,  Pilon  with  him;  two  steps  carried 


THE  TALE  THAT  ESPER  TOLD  357 

them  across  it  and  off  at  the  opposite  side,  leaving 
the  planks  vibrating  and  pounding  on  the  boats 
which  formed  their  base.  A  shot  from  Jean's  pistol 
sped  after  their  forms,  but  harmlessly,  since  he  had 
no  time  to  aim.  One  more  forward  leap  and  the 
two  men  vanished  between  the  wide  rear  doors  which 
stood  partially  open  for  air.  Then  these  were 
slammed  shut  with  a  jarring  bang. 

A  score  of  us  piled  pell-mell  after  the  fleeing  men, 
knocking  over  chairs  and  table  and  scattering  paper 
and  ink-pot  in  our  wild  rush.  Surc.on  stupefied,  old 
Gaspard  dazed  and  still  clutching  his  quill  ready 
to  write,  Esper  standing  on  the  witness  chair  —  all 
were  swept  forward  in  our  advance  to  seize  Del 
Hervalle  and  Pilon.  We  flung  ourselves  against  the 
doors  —  they  shook  but  did  not  yield ;  again  we 
hurled  our  bodies  upon  the  broad  leaves  to  no  better 
purpose. 

"  They  're  propped  shut  with  a  beam,"  Gaspard 
squealed  shrilly.  "  Pilon  has  propped  them  with  a 
beam." 

Hands  tore  out  planks  from  the  platform,  swung 
them  with  muttered  curses  against  the  door,  in  the 
manner  of  a  battering  ram.  But  the  doors  were 
stout,  the  prop  well  placed,  we  could  not  force  them. 
For  a  time  we  stood  dismayed. 

"  Out  of  the  other  end ! "  I  shouted  at  last. 
"  They  have  a  boat  at  the  north  point  of  the  isle. 
To  the  boat,  men !  Quick !  " 

As  one  person  we  turned,  springing  over  boats 


358  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

and  lumber.  Women  and  children  shrank  tog-ether 
in  confusion,  shrieking;  the  room  rang  with  noise, 
with  the  thumping  of  overturned  chairs,  chairs 
hurled  aside,  with  pounding  feet,  shouts,  the  push- 
ing of  crowded  bodies.  A  dog  broke  into  a  frenzied 
yelp  somewhere  under  foot  and  added  to  the  hubbub. 
Suddenly  the  congestion  opened  free  before  me  and 
I  almost  pitched  forward  on  my  head.  Pistol  in 
hand,  I  rushed  to  the  south  door. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

LAST   OF   THE  TALE 

Out  of  the  boat-shop  we  streamed,  men,  women, 
children,  dogs. 

Fog  filled  the  air.  The  walls  of  the  village  loomed 
vaguely  at  our  backs  and  vanished  farther  up  the 
street.  Thank  Heaven,  it  was  not  necessary  to 
depend  upon  sight ;  Stevens'  bit  of  spying  had  made 
that  unnecessary.  Del  Hervalle  and  Pilon  would 
trust  their  secret  to  save  them ;  careful  schemer  that 
he  was,  the  former  had  prepared  the  boat  for  a  last 
contingency,  a  final  resort. 

Racing  northward,  I  crossed  down  to  the  beach 
and  ran  upon  the  smooth  hard  sand.  The  tide  was 
in,  The  Throat  was  full,  the  waves  flowed  and  un- 
curled in  sudsy  foam.  Rage  at  being  thus  thwarted 
by  the  Frenchman  lent  me  speed,  and  gradually  I 
perceived  that  the  others  were  falling  behind,  all 
save  Jean,  who  had  caught  me  up  and  was  running 
by  my  side,  his  splendid  body  swinging  forward 
at  each  step  as  regularly  as  a  perfect  machine.  A 
hundred  yards  were  past.  Out  somewhere  upon 
the  shrouded  sea  we  could  hear  the  low  bleat  of  a 
fog-horn,  the  warning  cry  of  some  coasting  steamer 
moving  fearfully  upon  its  way.  The  fine  moisture 


360  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

of  the  fog  sifted  against  our  faces,  the  sands  gave 
no  sound  save  a  soft  crunch  to  our  flying  feet,  and 
from  under  the  cover  of  the  mist  the  ocean's  waves 
emerged  to  meet  us,  but  broke  and  slithered  over 
the  beach  in  glassy  lines. 

I  gripped  my  revolver.  Del  Hervalle  to  escape 
now!  Never,  even  if  I  should  have  to  wade  into 
the  sea  after  him!  Heaven  would  not  play  such  a 
dastardly  trick,  would  not  turn  loose  once  again 
upon  the  earth  such  a  monster !  With  Andrew  lying 
in  Stag  Lodge,  white  and  near  death,  lying  on  the 
same  island  with  the  assassin  who  had  fired  the 
shot,  Heaven  could  not  be  so  unjust! 

The  line  of  the  beach  began  to  curve  gradually  east- 
ward, while  growing  narrower;  the  sea  encroached 
upon  it  and  forced  us  nearer  the  brown  rugged 
cliffs  of  rock  which  rose  above  the  ocean  at  this 
part  of  the  island.  Their  fronts  stood  sheer,  slashed 
now  and  again  by  crevices  and  ravines  that  led  up 
to  the  wood  above;  fragments  and  blocks  detached 
and  fallen  down  upon  the  sands  impeded  us,  among 
which  we  dodged  with  unslackened  speed.  Gulls 
flew  up  screaming,  vanishing  in  the  mist  that  blew 
and  rolled  in  clouds  across  sea  and  earth. 

"  Are  you  sure  of  them  here,  Charles  ? "  Jean 
asked. 

"  Stevens  followed  Del  Hervalle.  The  boat  was 
at  the  north  point." 

Once  I  slipped  on  a  stone  that  protruded  from  the 
sand  like  a  fang,  but  was  up  again  instantly  with 


LAST   OF   THE   TALE  361 

scarcely  a  second  lost.  As  we  ran,  all  of  the  events 
in  which  I  had  played  a  part  raced  through  my 
mind  in  pictures  and  scenes,  as  if  they  had  been 
cast  in  some  kaleidoscopic  fashion  upon  the  fog: 
the  tragedy  at  Forge;  my  months  upon  the  ranch 
under  the  hot  sun  of  Texas;  the  day  upon  the 
steamer  when  the  coffee  merchant,  the  journalist, 
Harrington,  and  I  had  discussed  this  same  villain; 
my  coming  to  the  island  and  my  encounter  with  Von 
Hussman;  my  capture  at  Moore  House;  Del  Her- 
valle's  visit  at  the  Lodge;  the  committee  of  fisher- 
men; Esper  and  I  bantering  under  the  tree;  the 
struggle  in  the  room  and  my  imprisonment  in  the 
loft  of  Pilon's  house;  Descarte's  death  on  the  sands 
among  the  boats;  my  sojourn  on  board  the  yacht, 
with  the  German  inspecting  the  map ;  the  talks  with 
Betty;  the  shot  in  the  wood;  the  trial  in  the  boat- 
house.  They  flew  through  my  brain  in  tatters  and 
rags.  Was  it  years,  or  only  days,  in  which  time 
had  poured  out  these  things  that  had  happened  here 
at  Lavouche! 

On  a  sudden  Jean  held  up  a  hand,  stopping  as 
did  I. 

"  Their  voices,"  said  he,  "  and  this  is  the  north 
point" 

The  shingle  of  sand  just  here  was  open  and  free 
from  any  fallen  blocks,  spreading  smooth  and  white 
from  the  foot  of  the  cliff  to  the  water.  Hand  yet 
lifted,  Jean  leaned  forward  to  hearken;  it  seemed 
at  first  as  if  we  were  alone  with  the  sea ;  across  the 


362  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

water  stole  the  muffled  bass  mooing  of  the  fog  horn, 
like  the  voice  of  some  dejected  sea-animal;  the 
water  lapped  and  gurgled  and  slithered  and  slid  at 
our  feet,  while  from  the  coast  of  the  mainland  higher 
up  sounded  the  rolling  beat  of  surf;  all  about  us 
in  whirling  clouds,  in  thin  vapors,  or  driving  mists, 
the  fog  swept  southward  upon  the  light  breeze. 

Then  some  distance  off  there  sounded  a  voice, 
Pilon's,  speaking. 

Jean  whispered,  "  Keep  against  the  rock  so  that 
we  shall  not  be  seen." 

Creeping  along  its  brown  flank,  pistols  in  hand, 
we  advanced  in  the  direction1  of  the  speaker. 
Gradually  a  darker  blot  appeared  in  the  gray  fog 
—  the  boat  which  had  been  moored  at  low  tide  by 
a  rope  to  a  tooth  of  rock  and  which  now  floated 
upon  the  risen  waters.  Nearer  we  crept.  We  could 
make  out  its  lines,  its  hull,  its  ghostly  mast.  It 
rocked  and  pitched  upon  the  incoming  swells  like  a 
live  thing,  now  riding  high,  now  sinking  into  a 
trough,  while  its  cable  slapped  the  waves  at  each 
conclusive  jerk  of  its  body.  Pilon  was  at  work. 
Yet  nearer  we  crept,  so  near  we  could  distinguish 
the  details  of  his  person  —  his  head  and  back,  his 
trousers  rolled  to  the  knee  and  the  unsubmerged 
part  of  his  bare  legs.  He  had  waded  forth  into 
the  water  in  order  to  draw  the  craft  nearer  shore. 

Senor  Del  Hervalle  stood  closer  to  us,  a  port- 
folio under  his  arm  which  he  had  evidently  left  on 
dry  land  when  he  stored  his  other  property  aboard. 


LAST   OF   THE   TALE  363 

Behind  him  a  ravine  full  of  bushes  opened,  and  down 
this  I  knew  led  the  path  from  Moore  House  and  the 
wood  to  this  spot.  The  man  stood  about  the  middle 
of  the  sand,  looking  shorter  and  fatter  than  ever 
through  the  illusive  mist. 

"  Hasten,  my  good  Pilon,"  he  said,  "  we  know 
not  when  they  may  come." 

"  None  know  of  us  here,"  the  other  returned 
confidently,  "  except  Davis  —  and  what  of  him, 
Senor?" 

Del  Hervalle  turned  and  gazed  in  our  direction, 
reflecting.  Jean  and  I  melted  into  the  stone  against 
which  we  crouched.  Did  he  perceive  us?  With  a 
pounding  heart  I  awaited  discovery.  But  he  was 
a  full  fifty  feet  off;  we  blended  with  the  cliff  and 
his  vision  ranged  beyond.  Removing  his  silk  hat,  he 
wiped  his  brow,  remaining  bare  of  head  for  a  few 
seconds  to  allow  the  cooling  air  to  play  over  his 
crown. 

"  Davis  must  take  his  own  chance,"  he  said.  "  We 
shall  not  wait." 

"Good,"  grunted  Pilon.  "I  never  liked  that 
Davis." 

The  sail  was  now  hauled  up;  the  speaker  stood 
looking  at  it,  then  he  stepped  upon  the  prow,  jumped 
out  into  the  knee-deep  water  and  began  dragging  the 
small  vessel  in  towards  the  beach. 

"  Loose  the  rope,  Senor,  all  is  ready,"  he  stated. 

Del  Hervalle  deposited  at  his  feet  the  portfolio 
which  he  carried,  turned,  and  made  his  way  to  the 


364  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

fragment  of  stone  which  had  been  utilized  as  a 
mooring-post,  where  he  began  to  unwrap  the  coils. 

"  Now  is  the  time,"  I  whispered,  leaning  forward 
to  spring. 

Jean's  hand  closed  on  my  arm. 

"  No,  Pilon  must  come  nearer." 

Breathlessly  I  waited.  Each  second  seemed  an 
age,  an  age  of  terrible  suspense.  Slowly,  indolently, 
Pilon  drew  the  boat  towards  the  beach,  wading 
through  the  water  with  swishing  steps.  Del  Her- 
valle,  who  was  coiling  the  rope  and  moving  to  meet 
him  as  he  worked,  suddenly  paused.  A  faint  shout 
had  sounded  down  the  beach  behind  us;  the  vil- 
lagers were  coming. 

"  Faster,  Pilon,"  he  cried,  "  I  hear  voices." 

Pilon  in  turn  halted,  cupping  a  hand  to  his  ear. 
"  There  are  none,  Seiior,  you  heard  but  a  gull 
scream." 

"  No,  no,  they  come."  And  he  began  to  wrap  the 
rope  hurriedly. 

"  Very  well,  Senor." 

Jean  gripped  my  forearm.  I  felt  his  fingers 
quiver.  As  for  myself  my  pulses  were  galloping; 
for  the  moment  had  come. 

"  Now !  "  Jean  breathed. 

Up  we  leaped,  running.  I  had  trusted  that  we 
should  be  upon  them  before  they  were  aware  of  our 
presence,  but  this  was  to  hope  too  much;  Pilon, 
who  saw  us,  uttered  a  shout  of  warning.  Del 
Hervalle  whirled  about,  dropped  the  rope,  while  his 


LAST    OF   THE   TALE  365 

hand  darted  into  his  breast  and  he  uttered  an  oath. 
A  revolver  was  whipped  out  by  him,  and  with  the 
same  movement  it  was  fired.  The  report  cracked 
sharply  against  the  cliff;  the  bullet  sung  by  our 
heads. 

I  have  never  been  a  particularly  expert  shot,  in- 
deed, my  targets  have  shown  but  few  bull's-eyes. 
Now  however  my  nerves  were  steeled  by  determina- 
tion. Aiming  at  the  widest  part  of  his  body,  I  fired, 
and  without  waiting  fired  again.  A  sort  of  cough 
came  from  his  lips  and  his  weapon  dropped  from 
his  fingers,  while  he  staggered  and  fell. 

"  To  me,  Pilon,  to  me !  "  he  cried,  stretching  forth 
a  hand,  "  let  me  not  be  taken !  " 

Pilon  however  was  too  greatly  engaged  to  render 
assistance,  for  Jean,  swerving  when  he  saw  that 
Del  Hervalle  was  down,  ran  towards  the  sailor. 
The  latter  crouched  behind  the  prow  of  his  boat 
which  grated  on  the  sand,  and  they  began  firing 
wildly  at  each  other.  With  a  sudden  curse  Pilon 
flung  his  pistol  at  Jean's  head,  gave  the  boat  a 
mighty  shove,  and  flung  himself  into  it. 

"  To  me,  Pilon,"  Del  Hervalle  uttered  in  a  last 
despairing  cry. 

I  drew  nearer  to  the  man  slowly,  watchfully.  He 
lay  sprawling  on  his  breast  with  coat-tails  outspread 
and  looked  like  some  misshapen  beast  or  huge  toad 
or  great  black  round  beetle.  He  was  in  pain,  appar- 
ent from  the  convulsive  working  of  his  hands,  open- 
ing and  clutching  at  the  sand.  My  shots,  as  I 


366  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

afterwards  learned,  had  not  been  especially  fine, 
were  they  judged  by  the  standards  of  pistol  fire, 
but  they  had  been  singularly  effective  —  one  through 
the  bowels  and  one  through  the  hip  —  and  he  could 
not  in  any  case  have  lived  long.  His  little  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  me  with  malignant  hatred,  as  would  have 
been  those  of  a  wounded,  helpless  spider;  his  face 
was  ashen,  which  brought  out  with  sinister  distinct- 
ness the  line  of  his  black,  close-trimmed,  pointed 
beard  and  waxed  moustaches. 

"  Thus  ends  the  dream  of  empire,  monsieur,"  I 
said,  looking  down  upon  him. 

"  Water !  "  he  gasped. 

"  That  brine  ?  "  I  asked,  pointing  at  the  sea. 

"What  other?  be  quick!" 

He  was  in  agony.  I  thrust  my  revolver  into  my 
pocket  and  hurried  to  the  marge. 

Jean  and  Pilon  were  fighting  a  battle  of  their 
own.  Since  the  latter  had  flung  away  his  weapon, 
Jean  had  put  away  his  pistol  also,  trusting  to  bare 
hands.  The  man  in  the  boat  caught  up  an  oar  to 
strike  my  companion,  but  Jean  seized  the  blade  of 
it  and  thus  they  tugged.  Pilon's  face  was  one  of 
fury,  a  baffled  animal's,  with  curses  pouring  from 
his  mouth;  that  of  Jean's  was  cold,  gray,  expres- 
sionless, as  if  cast  in  iron,  and  he  had  one  hand  on 
the  gunwale,  was  wading  beside  the  boat,  was  wait- 
ing an  opportunity  to  spring  in  and  close  with  his 
antagonist. 

Shouts  came  from  the  beach.    Through  the  fog  I 


LAST   OF   THE   TALE  367 

could  see  forms  running  towards  us.  I  scooped  up 
a  double  handful  of  water  and  turned  towards  Del 
Hervalle.  It  was  only  to  drop  it  with  a  cry,  to  run 
towards  him.  For  while  my  back  was  turned  he  had 
wriggled  forwards  —  what  the  effort  cost  him  must 
have  been  something  dreadful  —  and  was  stretching 
a  hand  to  the  revolver  which  he  had  dropped.  A 
spring,  a  kick,  and  I  sent  it  spinning  far  away. 

"  Mischief  will  not  cease  in  you  until  you  are 
dead,"  I  exclaimed  harshly.  "  You  think  yet  to 
sting  with  your  last  breath." 

A  wan  smile  hovered  on  his  lips,  a  semblance  of 
the  old  bland  smile  I  knew  so  well.  He  struggled 
over  upon  his  back,  where  he  seemed  to  rest  easier. 

"  I  think  it  is  myself  I  shall  have  to  sting,  mon 
Charles,"  he  answered. 

Men  were  running  towards  us,  behind  them  were 
others,  and  behind  these  still  more,  for  cries  could 
be  heard  all  down  the  beach,  cries  of  alarm  at  the 
shots  which  had  echoed  from  the  cliff.  The  runners 
nearest  were  calling  out,  pointing  at  me. 

"  Bon  Dieu,  must  I  make  a  spectacle  of  dying  for 
the  canaille  f"  Del  Hervalle  gasped. 

"  You  have  earned  it." 

"  They  may  look  at  my  body,  not  my  soul,"  he 
said  between  set  teeth ;  "  you  only  shall  have  that 
honor." 

Flipping  his  hand  into  his  bosom,  he  plucked  out 
a  stiletto,  small,  bright,  slender.  Involuntarily  a 
cry  of  horror  escaped  me. 


368  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

"  This  you  shall  not  deprive  me  of  at  least,"  he 
said,  smiling  once  more. 

The  needle  point  rested  upon  his  bosom.  His 
fingers  tightened  around  the  handle. 

"  Not  that!  "  I  exclaimed. 

And  I  have  often  since  wondered  why  I  should 
so  cry  out.  Why  indeed  not  thus?  Was  it  not 
fitting?  If  he  were  a  villain,  he  had  at  any  rate 
been  bold  in  his  villainy. 

He  lay  upon  his  back.  His  face  smiled  up  at  me 
with  colorless  lips. 

"  Thus  ends  the  dream  of  empire  —  with  a  needle- 
prick,"  said  he  in  a  musing  voice. 

Then,  before  my  horrified  eyes,  the  stiletto  sank 
until  the  handle  alone  was  visible.  The  smile  froze 
upon  his  lips,  his  eyes  opened  a  trifle;  his  fingers 
slipped  from  the  hilt  and  rested  lightly  upon  his 
bosom.  And  there  was  only  the  booming  of  the 
surf,  like  a  requiem. 

Del  Hervalle  —  D'Urville —  the  man  of  crimes, 
iniquities,  contrivances,  schemes,  plots,  evil  deeds, 
was  dead! 

A  hand  touched  my  elbow.  I  looked  round.  Sur- 
c,on  was  at  my  shoulder,  beside  him  other  men,  all 
staring  upon  the  black  form  upon  the  sands.  No 
word  of  explanation  was  needed  to  make  clear  what 
occurred;  they  asked  no  questions. 

A  shout  of  exultation  from  the  water  aroused  us ; 
we  turned  thither,  to  behold  Pilon  triumphant.  He 
had  wrenched  the  oar  free,  beaten  Jean  off.  Out 


LAST   OF   THE   TALE  369 

and  eastward  the  little  craft  had  been  blown  by  the 
wind;  its  bow  swung  away  from  the  island;  but 
Jean  still  followed,  intent,  undaunted,  relentless. 
Now  the  water  washed  about  his  waist,  he  waded 
deeper,  Pilon  struck  at  him,  cursed  him,  mocked 
him,  laughed  aloud. 

Suddenly  Jean  brought  forth  his  hand  and  shook 
•water  from  the  weapon  it  held.  Fascinated  by  the 
drama  being  played  before  our  eyes  and  seen 
through  the  mist  indistinctly,  we  followed  along 
the  beach.  Now  Pilon  uttered  a  cry,  he  dropped 
his  oar;  but  it  was  too  late  to  crouch  under  cover 
of  the  gunwale,  for  Jean  fired.  A  scream  burst 
from  the  sailor's  lips  that  rang  among  the  cliffs, 
a  scream  of  anguish;  and  his  body  pitched  for- 
ward and  sank  beneath  the  water.  Jean  turned 
about.  Without  another  look  he  waded  shoreward, 
came  dripping  out  of  the  sea,  his  work  done. 

Slowly  we  returned  to  the  spot  where  the  body 
of  Del  Hervalle  lay.  Each  moment  new  arrivals 
augmented  our  number,  until  finally  the  whole  vil- 
lage, men,  women,  and  children,  stood  in  a  circle 
peering  at  it  in  silence.  Even  Mr.  Moore,  Mr. 
Fenton,  and  the  gentleman  from  the  State  Depart- 
ment had  caught  the  contagion,  following  the  pur- 
suit. A  warm  hand  crept  into  mine  —  Betty's. 
Tears  of  happiness  shone  in  her  eyes,  for  I  was 
alive,  free,  and  unharmed. 

The  approach  of  night,  hastened  by  the  fog,  was 
darkening  earth. 


370  THE   ISLE   OF    STRIFE 

"  Am  I  to  consider  myself  still  under  investiga- 
tion, Monsieur  the  Mayor?"  I  asked. 

"  There  is  no  need,"  Surgon  replied.  "  The  guilt 
of  Senor  Del  Hervalle  and  Pilon  was  established 
beyond  all  doubt  and  they  have  paid  the  penalty. 
Esper  alone  remains." 

"  I  promised  him  immunity,"  said  I.  "  He  helped 
me  to  escape  and  further  testified  in  my  behalf. 
Where  is  the  rascal  ?  " 

"Here,  master." 

He  stood  a  little  way  on  my  right,  holding  my  hat 
before  him  with  both  hands.  He  gazed  at  Del 
Hervalle  thoughtfully. 

"  Thus  you  might  have  ended,"  said  I,  pointing. 

"  But  I  did  not,  master." 

"  Give  me  my  hat." 

"  It  is  well  that  I  fetched  it,  or  you  would  have 
caught  cold  in  the  head  —  and  it  is  Pilon,  after 
all,  who  is  pickled,"  he  added. 

"  Get  away  with  you,"  said  I,  weary  of  his 
nonsense. 

"  Yes,  master." 

Under  the  directions  of  Surc.on  certain  fishermen 
took  up  the  body  of  Del  Hervalle  to  carry  it  to 
the  village ;  so  with  all  Lavouche  as  a  cortege  it  was 
borne  down  the  beach.  Mr.  Fenton,  Maitland,  and 
the  two  gentlemen  with  them,  Mr.  Moore  and  those 
of  his  household  clustered  about  me  in  turn  pressing 
my  hand.  Then  I  beheld  the  mayor  lingering,  un- 
easy and  downcast. 


LAST    OF   THE   TALE  371 

"  What  is  it,  Monsieur  the  Mayor  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Ah,  it  is  not  as  Monsieur  the  Mayor  that  I 
would  have  you  address  me,  only  as  Surgon.  You 
have  said  that  you  would  have  no  friends  but  Jean 
and  Gaspard  —  "  He  halted,  unable  to  proceed. 

"  Come,  is  that  all?  "  said  I,  stretching  forth  my 
hand. 

He  seized  it,  radiant.  "  We  are  as  children  here 
in  Lavouche,  we  are  simple,"  he  exclaimed,  "  simple, 
as  Pilon  said,  but  honest.  We  do  not  know  the  great 
world  outside  and  the  evil  men  may  do,  such  as 
Sefior  Del  Hervalle  sought  to  work  against  you." 

"  Let  us  forget  all  that  has  happened." 

".No,  we  will  keep  it  for  a  shame  to  us.  But 
we  shall  love  you  more  than  ever,  indeed,  we  have 
always  loved  you  in  our  hearts.  It  was  only  our 
minds  that  were  deceived." 

"  Lavouche  shall  always  be  dear  to  me,"  I  an- 
swered, and  he  went  away  happy. 

Our  party  walked  down  the  eastern  shore  of  the 
island,  since  Mr.  Moore  had  invited  the  new-comers 
to  spend  the  night  at  his  house.  I  begged  to  be 
permitted  to  precede  them,  as  I  was  anxious  to 
reach  Stag  Lodge  and  learn  of  Andrew's  condition. 
Thereupon  Mr.  Fenton  informed  me  that  he  had 
picked  up  the  surgeon  for  whom  I  had  wired,  tak- 
ing him  at  the  solicitation  of  the  division  superin- 
tendent aboard  his  own  train,  which  he  was  glad 
to  do  when  he  learned  that  it  was  at  my  urgent 
demand  the  physician  was  coming  to  the  island. 


372  THE   ISLE   OF   STRIFE 

"  And  he  has  been  attending  your  servant  these 
two  hours  past,"  he  concluded. 

"  I  must  go  to  Andrew  at  once  notwithstanding," 
I  answered.  "  He  saved  my  life,  and  my  heart  is 
heavy  for  him." 

"Go,  by  all  means,"  Mr.  Moore  said.  "You 
can  return  to  Moore  House  later,  as  Mr.  Fenton 
says  that  the  surgeon  brought  with  him  a  trained 
nurse.  You  must  eat,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us; 
all  of  you  shall  be  fed  at  my  table." 

"Very  well,"  said  I,  and  hurried  forward. 

Then  Betty  flew  to  my  side.  "  I  '11  go  with  you, 
for  I  also  love  Andrew." 

It  was  not  until  we  were  out  of  sight  of  the 
others,  past  Moore  wharf  and  come  almost  to  Stag 
Lodge,  that  I  clasped  Betty  in  my  arms.  So  much 
had  been  gone  through,  so  much  suffered,  so  many 
dangers  escaped,  that  love  and  happiness  welled  in 
my  breast.  Her  dear  eyes  looked  into  mine  with 
trust  and  joy;  her  arms  clung  to  me.  Nothing 
should  ever  divide  us,  the  sweetest,  truest,  most  loyal 
heart  in  the  world  and  mine. 

"  The  ocean  is  wide,  but  not  as  wide  as  our  love," 
said  I.  "  It  beats  and  throbs  and  flows  forever, 
yet  not  so  greatly  as  our  love ;  it  has  tides,  but  our 
hearts  will  have  none;  there  are  fogs  and  storms 
and  night  —  our  love  will  not  know  them.  It 
plumbs  the  waters,  it  runs  to  meet  the  dawn,  it 
ascends  and  it  sits  in  heaven.  My  soul  gives  itself 
to  you,  dearest." 


LAST    OF   THE   TALE  373 

Awhile  after,  as  we  went,  I  perceived  Esper  fol- 
lowing afar  off.  Had  he  seen?  He  walked  with  a 
finger  laid  upon  his  nose.  Well,  I  cared  not  —  all 
the  world  might  know  my  love  for  this  dear  girl 
at  my  side  whose  hand  clasped  mine. 

In  Stag  Lodge  I  found  the  surgeon  and  Billy 
sitting  before  the  fireplace,  the  one  grave  and  the 
other  glum.  But  at  my  appearance  the  latter  sprang 
up,  ran  to  me  and  wrung  my  hand. 

"  All  is  well,  all  is  well  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  All 's  well  with  me,"  I  responded.  "  The  in- 
vestigation is  over,  I  'm  proven  innocent,  Pilon  and 
Del  Hervalle  were  shown  to  be  guilty  and  now 
they  're  dead." 

"  Dead !  "    His  eyes  opened  wide. 

"  Yes,  Jean  killed  the  one  and  Del  Hervalle  died 
by  his  own  hand." 

"  Of  course  I  had  to  miss  the  fun,"  he  sighed. 

"  But  you  've  done  me  a  nobler  service  here  than 
you  could  have  performed  there.  Your  part  was 
true  friendship." 

"  You  know  of  course  I  would  not  have  wished 
to  do  anything  else  than  I  did." 

"And  Andrew?" 

"  Doing  finely.  The  bullet  is  out  and  he  is  sleep- 
ing. The  old  fellow  has  a  constitution  like  an  ox 
—  simple  life,  early  hours,  and  all  that,  you  know." 

Now  indeed  was  I  happy.  To  know  that  he  would 
recover,  be  my  old  faithful  Andrew  again,  caused 
my  cup  of  joy  to  run  over.  I  would  have  a  peep 


374  THE   ISLE    OF    STRIFE 

at  him !  So  tiptoeing  into  the  bedroom,  Betty  with 
me,  I  beheld  him  fast  asleep.  His  silver  hair  had 
been  smoothed,  his  eyes  were  closed,  he  breathed 
softly  and  regularly.  The  nurse  smiled,  raised  a 
finger,  and  we  went  out  as  noiselessly  as  we  had 
entered.  Dear  old  Andrew ! 

"  I  am  Monsieur  Woodwork's  new  valet-de- 
chambre,"  I  heard  a  familiar  voice  remark. 

Esper  stood  before  the  fireplace,  very  much  at 
home. 

"  By  Heaven,  you  need  a  bath  then,"  the  surgeon 
stated,  with  a  puff  at  his  pipe. 

"  That  is  very  true.  Circumstances  of  late  have 
caused  me  to  suffer  inconveniences,  Monsieur  the 
Doctor,  among  them  a  lack  of  washing  —  I  will 
presently  shine  with  soap  and  water." 

Suddenly  a  thought  struck  me. 

"  What  became  of  Davis  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  Nom  de  chien,  he  vanished  into  the  sands  when 
every  one  ran  after  you;  he  hastened  to  a  boat, 
pushed  off,  and  rowed  across  to  the  mainland.  I, 
who  had  stopped  to  secure  your  hat,  caught  him 
by  the  elbow.  '  Monsieur,  it  is  impolite  to  go  with- 
out making  a  farewell/  I  said.  But  he  was  in 
anxiety  it  appeared.  '  Damn  you,  out  of  the  way ! ' 
he  answered.  So  I  sent  a  little  stone  after  him 
to  give  him  more  haste,  which  struck  him  on  the 
leg  and  accomplished  its  purpose,  master." 

I  turned  to  Betty. 

"  This  Esper  is  to  be  my  valet,"  I  said,  smiling. 


LAST    OF   THE   TALE  375 

"  I  purchased  my  escape  from  Pilon's  house  on  that 
condition." 

"This  fellow!" 

Esper  bowed. 

"I  am  a  very  good  valet,  mademoiselle,  —  also 
I  am  very  discreet." 

Now  did  he  refer  to  what  he  had  seen  on  the 
beach,  I  wondered? 

"  This  poor  Andrew,"  he  went  on,  "  I  will  cure 
him.  I  have  been  something  of  a  doctor,  among 
other  things.  I  am  acquainted  with  herbs,  poultices, 
and  cupping."  At  which  the  surgeon  sniffed. 

"  Come,  we  shall  all  go  to  Moore  House  for 
supper,"  said  I. 

The  surgeon  knocked  the  coal  out  of  his  pipe 
and  rose,  while  Billy  secured  their  hats.  As  we 
passed  from  the  house  to  the  beach,  I  looked  back 
at  its  lamp-lit  windows,  a  hundred  emotions  rising 
in  my  breast. 

A  shadow  spoke  at  my  elbow. 

"  A  most  excellent  jest  is  finished,  master." 

And  so  it  was  —  a  jest  of  Fate,  an  entanglement 
that  had  taken  three  men  from  earth  in  the  jesting. 


THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000036204     6 


